The Dirty Game
by Steph Malfoy
Summary: [Sequel to 'Dirty Little Secret'. Read DLS first] Urie Ross[Alex Rider] has lived in America for 4 years following the Scorpia ordeal. Now MI6 calls on him once again to offer him a mission that could easily be the most difficult of his career.
1. The Mission

**-- Authors Note --**

Hey! Back again! Before I start The Dirty Game, sequel to Dirty Little Secret I would just like to address a few reviews that I have gotten for Dirty Little Secret. Okay, so first, sorry if any of my mannerisms or phrases are not correct for a story that takes place in London. But, come _on_! I live in America! I know it would help but I'm not going to research. So, you know, bear with me, give me tips if you feel that strongly about it. You can't just expect me to know something like that; I've never even been to London! And only two people (I think) said something about it so it can't be that big of a deal to most of you. And also, my using 'than' instead of 'then'… whoops. Keep in mind that I am only fourteen but I know I should do that kind of stuff right and know how to use those words correctly and all but I type really fast and I often miss words or phrases or type the right word but the wrong form and I can't be bothered with serious editing. I have gotten better since I started this story though. If you still don't like it then whatever, it's not my problem. Either you can bypass a few errors in my writing or you can just not read my stories. Whichever you prefer.

ANYWAYS, here's the story, I was just tempted to start it. This first chapter may be a bit short but at least it's up. And no worries, Triple Threat will be updated ASAP. Hope you enjoy this chapter, this story will be a step up from DLS… I hope. This chapter and the ones to follow will hopefully redeem myself from the bad chapters at the end of DLS. SO, here it is. Enjoy! Review!

-Steph

**Disclaimer: **Me? Anthony Horowitz? Ha-ha, that's funny. First, my name's Steph and I'm only 14 and I'm a girl and… oh yeah, I live in the good 'ol U.S.A. No connection to Anthony Horowitz whatsoever. Second, I'm no where near as good a writer as him, I'm just doing this for fun.

**The Dirty Game**

**Chapter One—The Mission**

_Then:_

Blunt cleared his throat and shuffled his papers around.

"Did you need me for something?" I knew that I was stating the obvious, but I felt that they needed some prompting and urging in the right direction before they started talking. I had no doubt that they wanted to use me for another mission now. I waited patiently for one of them to start talking.

"Well, Urie," Blunt began, "you have worked for us for four years and you have contributed more to MI6 then many of our other older and more experienced agents. You've saved the world, as clichéd as it sounds, more times then Superman. MI6 relies greatly on your services. In these past four years you have done several jobs for us, not terribly difficult of dangerous but, now we have something bigger to ask of you. Urie, we have another mission for you…"

_Now:_

"You do," I said it more of a statement then a question. I couldn't say I was terribly surprised with the turn of events. It wasn't even really a turn of events. This was what I knew was coming the whole time.

"Yes, indeed we do," Blunt folded his hands on the glossy table top and looked me directly in the eye. I'd be lying if I said that that did not make me feel uncomfortable. Those gray eyes were so lifeless and… _boring_.

"And what would this mission entail?" I tried to get them straight to the point. I'd rather not spend the whole of a sunny afternoon in a stuffy, way too air-conditioned office.

"It will be… difficult," Blunt began severely, "for many different reasons. The mission will be the least of your troubles. It will be the setting in which it occurs and the… distractions that you may find there."

I wasn't to keen on what Blunt was saying, it almost sounded as though he felt I could not do whatever this new mission would ask of me.

"But," Blunt continued, I looked back up at him; apparently he wasn't done just yet, "through all the difficulties we, Mrs. Jones and I, still believe you to be the best agent to successfully complete this mission in an admirable way."

"Why would I be the best for the job?" Now I was curious.

"Well," Blunt began, "the setting will be more familiar to you then to anyone else," I should have seen it there but I didn't.

"And my age plays no factor?" I questioned dubiously.

"Your age is important in this mission too. It will help you fit in where you are going." Of course, it was always about my age in the end. "But," Blunt continued, "if you do not feel up to it then we understand and will find another agent to help us."

I almost snorted in amusement, sure they'd let me off that easily. Maybe the day a pig flew by Blunt's London office window. My laughter then dissipated. "I can do it," I said firmly. I basically just agreed to whatever they were asking of me. "I've escaped Scorpia twice now alive," though just barely the second time but I did not feel the need to point that out.

"We are well aware of that fact, Urie," Blunt said. "This mission will be no where near the extent of which the Scorpia mission rose too." He didn't sound quite so sure about his words.

"Will it involve Scorpia?" I immediately questioned.

Blunt glanced at Mrs. Jones quickly before replying. "As of this point in time," he began, "we are confident in telling you that no, Scorpia is not involved. We do, however, not know what the situation will morph into in a space of time. We hope it does not get more serious then it already is, that is why we would like to send you in immediately. We have already secured a place for you there," Blunt threw in the little piece of information.

My eyes narrowed suspiciously. He couldn't be implying what I thought he was.

_Distractions that you may find there… The setting will be more familiar to you then to anyone else… It will help you fit in where you are going… Secured a place for you. _

"You're not…"

"We're sending you to London."

"To London," I repeated, feeling no emotion whatsoever at Blunt's rather blunt words. "You're sending me to London." London was a big place, maybe it wasn't what I was thinking… only one way to find out: "Where in London exactly would I be?" I asked in a tight voice.

"You would be attending Brookland Prep."

And there it was.

I didn't understand. After everything they had done to get me away now they wanted me to go back, exactly to where the root of my troubles had begun. Sometimes I just did not understand the way that man's mind worked. I'm not sure I'd care to know either.

"And it wouldn't be at all suspicious when I show up out of the blue four years after everything that happened," I reasoned sarcastically.

"You're exactly right." See? I was right about Blunt and his mind; obviously it was not working right.

"Pardon?" I blinked.

"It will not be suspicious because no one will know that it is Alex Rider," Blunt explained. The use of my given name startled me a moment, I hadn't heard it in so long. I let it pass.

"My friends will still be there," I reminded him. "It's all of ours last year."

"I know. But, as I just said, you will not be going there as Alex Rider," there it was again, my old name. "You will be going as Urie Ross," and there it was, my new name, my name of the past four years.

"They will recognize me," I promised him. I still looked the same, same eye color, same hair color. My skin was a little tanner from the constant sun, I was a little taller and more muscled from playing soccer 24/7 and my hair was longer but I was still me and surely my friends would see that.

"Disguises, my boy," Blunt reminded me patiently.

"You're not shaving my head again," I warned him. It had taken far to long to grow my hair to the length it was now for them to shave it all off in a minute. I was not looking to repeat my experiences preparing for Point Blanc Academy. No thank you.

"There are ways to disguise you without cutting your hair off," Mrs. Jones said in a kind voice. The twinkle in her eyes suggested that she knew my reasoning for keeping my hair. "You look a bit different as it is, you're taller, tanner and more muscled," exactly, "so maybe hair dye and contacts would do the trick."

Well I could deal with hair dye and contacts.

Mrs. Jones eyed me, as if contemplating the way she wanted to disguise me. "Maybe… dark hair and hazel eyes." I didn't quite go for that idea and Mrs. Jones caught my look. "No?" She looked lost in thought for a second, she was sucking on her peppermint and it made a cracking noise, she'd bitten a little piece off of the edge. "Although," she taped her he pointer finger against her chin, "your hair has gotten remarkably lighter from the sun." She was right, my hair that used to be light brown was now more of a color that wasn't quite blonde but lighter then dirty blonde. It was kind of an in-between and it didn't look that bad. "Maybe," my attention snapped back to Mrs. Jones as she started speaking again, "keep the hair the color it is and… light green eyes."

"Um… sure," I agreed hesitatingly. I was still doubtful though. "They'll recognize me," I warned her once again.

"You will not be recognized by anyone, _Urie_," Blunt said firmly.

"I'm so sure about that fact."

"So it's settled then," Mrs. Jones cut in, obviously trying to steer the conversation away from the path that it was visibly taking. They couldn't have me walking away from this big mission. "We'll get the green contacts and you'll be in London within the week. Now on to someth—"

"Whoa, hold on," I interrupted her, raising my hand to ensure that she got my message loud and clear. "Within the week?" I echoed. "Isn't that a bit soon?" I wondered.

"Not at all," Blunt said. "The sooner we get you in then the sooner this whole thing will be solved and blown over. It's only bound to get worse if we wait for an extended amount of time," he reasoned.

"Do I get to know what this mission is or not?" They'd never prolonged telling me the mission for this long before. I was beginning to wonder whether or not this mission was going to be as "safe" and "easy" as they claimed.

It was silent for a moment. I wondered whether or not they had actually been planning on telling me today. Better to wait until I had already agreed to tell me that the mission actually entailed.

"Well," Blunt began, rearranging the papers in front of him on the desk, "it is quite complicated."

"But not dangerous," I reminded him.

"Now I never said it was not dangerous," Blunt admitted. "I said that it the mission would not be your only worry."

"So it is dangerous."

"You will not be in nearly the amount of danger as you were in with Scorpia."

"Could I ever be?" I wondered aloud.

"Nothing in the business can be known for sure," Blunt said.

"So do I get to know what I will be doing or would you rather not tell me until I am already in London?" I questioned sarcastically.

"In due time you will know everything, Urie," Blunt said, not really patiently.

"How long will I be in London?" I asked.

"We are not yet sure," Blunt replied.

"How will you explain my absence here?" I wanted to know next.

"You are visiting your ailing Grandmother," Blunt said quickly.

"Who am I traveling with?" I was growing curious now.

"You will be staying in a house."

"Well isn't that specific? Who with?"

"Two of our elder agents who will cover as your mother and father."

"Will they work with me?"

"Only if necessary."

"What about my real family? Mom and dad and Ian and everyone?"

"They will all remain behind and go about life as usual. They are not fit to travel with you."

"Will they know where and what I am doing?"

"They will know that you are in London working for us. That is all they will need."

"If I am visiting my 'ailing Grandmother' then shouldn't they all be along too?" I felt that the air quotes used around 'ailing Grandmother' were much needed.

Blunt kept steady, not allowing me to blow any holes is his 'plan'. "You're Grandmother is not dying. She merely tripped down the stairs one day and broke her leg. You offered to help her out until she was able to take care of herself once again."

"And my Grandfather?"

"Your Grandfather passed away from a heart attack last year."

"And what do the people at Brookland think? Do they know that it is me?" I switched gears a bit.

"They will not know who you truly are," Blunt assured me. "There is no need to worry them with all of this."

"Should they not be worried?" I asked curiously. Of course it had to be something they would worry over. Anything that I get sent in to is a situation to worry over.

"They would likely worry a lot if they were to know what you, the teenage spy they know as Alex Rider, were doing there."

"So who do they think I am?"

"They believe you to be Urie Ross, an American boy who has moved to London with his mother and father because his father was offered a job at the hospital there."

"My father is a doctor?"

"A very successful surgeon," Blunt clarified.

"Ah," I said thoughtfully. "And what about when I leave so suddenly?"

"Life in London did not suit you and your parents well. You miss the constant sun and warmth you find in Arizona. Your father took his job back at the Mayo Clinic and you, along with your mother, decided to move back with him."

"And what happens if someone does recognize me?"

"You will not be recognized," Blunt said firmly. "And if on the off chance that you are then you will deny all accusations. You are Urie Ross and have never heard of an Alex Rider. You are American and have never lived a day of your life in London."

"My accent?" I questioned dubiously. My English accent still remained, as it would always. I had been encouraged to take use of it when I first got here to make my story sound more convincing.

"Cover it up. You have been trained to be able to adopt any accent needed from you Urie," Blunt reminded me with a sigh. "Please use an American accent when you arrive in London."

"Will do," I said, putting on my very best impression of an American accent.

"Very good, Urie," Mrs. Jones praised me, "that will pass very well indeed."

"Fine," I said. "You think I'm ready for this? I haven't been on a mission in a while," I said doubtfully.

"Urie, you just arrived back from training. You will do fine. And we have a small, 'warm-up' mission I guess you could call it, to prepare you for London."

I eyed Blunt cautiously. "What do you want me to do?"

"It is perfectly safe with a very slim threat of danger. Any danger that you encounter will not be life threatening. You should not even be in danger at all," Mrs. Jones assured me.

"What am I doing?" I asked again.

"You will go to California tomorrow," Blunt said, "after school of course," he added. "It will be a very quick and easy mission just to get you back into the swing of it again. There is a very… how do I put this? _Successful_ drug dealer in one of the cities. All we need is for you to gather proof that this man is who we think he is and our other operatives will take it from there."

"Which city?"

"I can't quite remember the name." Well that's a first, Blunt.

"And you don't think that I can stop this guy?"

"You are leaving for London and I do not have time to have you resolve this and be in London by your scheduled time."

"When am I leaving?"

"Three days," Blunt said, checking a paper that had just rolled off of the fax machine. "Your flight has just been confirmed."

"Wonderful." I paused. "You do know that there are bound to be tons of drug dealers in the city, right?"

"Yes."

"Then why do you have to stop this one?"

"This one is a bit different from all of the others." Blunt would not elaborate on that claim and I didn't push it.

"How am I supposed to know who he is?"

"Urie, dear boy, we are not so naive. We have photos."

"Tell me again why you need me for this particular mission. Just send the others in to handle it," I shrugged, not really seeing the point to it all. "You seem to have it all figured out already."

"You are wrong about that, Urie," Blunt informed me. "This particular dealer sells only to children. If an adult approached him then he will surely cover himself and whatever he has on his person at that time. He's not a stupid man," Blunt said, "he's lasted ten years in the business and he just keeps getting better."

"So what do I do?" I asked the question even though I already knew the answer to it.

Blunt eyed me. "You will pass as young enough to have this man work with you," he said. "Now, this man, Damien his name is, will only talk to you, or sell to you, by appointment only. We have secured you an appointment with him tomorrow at six thirty on the beach. You will buy something from him, you are looking for some pot I believe it is," Blunt looked to Mrs. Jones for conformation. Mrs. Jones nodded her head. Blunt looked back at me. "You will then set a meeting date, place and time with his for the following week. You, however, will not attend, he will show at the meeting place with his usual stuff and MI6 will take him in."

"That's all I have to do?" I questioned skeptically.

"That's all you have to do," Blunt confirmed.

"And what makes this one dealer so special?" I wondered again.

"The details are of no major concern to you, Urie," Blunt said. "All you have to do is meet with Damien, buy your pot and set a meeting for the next week. See? Simple. No worries, you'll be out of there in a few hours."

"What does he look like?" I sighed.

Blunt pulled a picture out of the folder that sat on the table next to him. He slid it across the table to me. I straightened it in front of me. It was a close up picture of a man's face but, judging by the man's, Damien's, expression he was not aware that he was being photographed. He was young, no more thirty-two, I was sure. His face was slim. He had dark hair and dark eyes. There were several piercing in one of his ears. He didn't look evil, that much was for sure.

"He doesn't look so bad," I admitted aloud, still keeping my eyes on the picture, taking in every detail.

"It's all apart of his cover," Blunt said.

I didn't say anything else on the matter. I kept looking at the picture, making sure to memorize every detail about Damien. I only looked up when I felt someone looking at the picture from over my shoulder. I instinctively put a hand over the picture to cover it. I looked up and saw that it was just Wolf.

Wolf grinned. "No need to hide it from me, Cub," he joked. "I'm a good guy too you know."

I ignored Wolf's teasing comments because the sight of him brought another question to mind. Wolf would not have been aloud to stay in the briefing room had he not had a part to play in this whole mission thing. Out of the two missions I had a feeling that I knew which one he was apart of.

"He's apart of it, isn't he?" I asked, turning back to Blunt and Mrs. Jones. "In the whole London mission, he's apart of it."

"Right you are, Cub," Wolf replied before Blunt or Mrs. Jones could.

"What's he going to be doing there?" This question was clearly directed to Blunt and Mrs. Jones.

"Wolf has been secured a teaching position at Brookland Prep," Blunt said.

My mouth dropped open. I looked over at Wolf, he just shrugged. I turned back to Mrs. Jones and Blunt. "Again? That didn't go so well the last time." I couldn't help the small smile that passed across my lips as I thought about the one gym class that I had had with Wolf. "He's not teaching gym, is he?" I couldn't help but ask. "Cuz' he didn't do so good with that one last time."

"Just remember who was sitting on whom, Cub," Wolf mocked me.

I made a face at Wolf before verbalizing my next question. Or at least I tried to. I only got so far as opening my mouth before Wolf cut me off.

"Don't worry, Cub," he began with, "I will have a disguise too. No one will recognize me either," he assured me.

"What's your name this time… Mr. Meckovac?" I snorted.

"It's actually Mackovic," Wolf informed me. "But no, I will not use the same name. This ti.me I am a Mr. Donavon." Wolf wrinkled his nose the slightest bit, apparently he was not overly fond of his new name.

I grinned at Wolf. "What are you going to try your hand at teaching now?"

Wolf flashed me a grin. "I will be a German teacher," he announced.

I couldn't contain the laugh the erupted from me. Wolf looked only slightly miffed at my laughter, I suppose he too could see how funny the picture of him teaching was too create.

"Don't laugh too much now," he warned me. I glanced at him and my laughter ceased. That glint was back into his eyes, nothing good ever came from that glint. "I believe that you, my young Cub, are a student in my class, double periods too." Now Wolf laughed.

"Well that will be interesting," I laughed a little too.

"Do you have anymore questions, Urie?" Blunt's bleak voice broke through our laughter. I stopped laughing and faced him and Mrs. Jones once again.

"I do have one," I admitted. Blunt raised his gray eyebrows. "Why is Wolf going to be there? I mean I guess I understand why but I thought that I wasn't receiving any outside help and all," I recalled what he had told me previously about my "parents".

Blunt weighed his words before continuing. "Well, you are the primary component in this mission," he began. "However, after seeing how well the two of you worked together in training and on the last mission I feel as though it would be wise for Wolf to be along with you. You will need help and I feel that you will be more open about it with someone you are more comfortable with."

"Alright."

"Anymore questions?"

"No," I said. "I'm just still wondering what exactly the London mission entails," I tried once again to get an answer from them.

"Do not concern yourself with the details just yet," Blunt advised me. "For the time being focus your efforts on tomorrow's task. Everything else will be explained in time, in due time."

"Fine," I sighed. I wanted to know what they were having me do this time.

"Now, if that is all you two gentlemen may be dismissed," Blunt excused Wolf and me.

I followed Wolf out of the air-conditioned office building and back out into the hot air.

Wolf turned to me and said, "Not that this whole little get together hasn't been a blast and all but I have things to take care of."

"Alright, see ya later, Wolf."

"Adios… or should I say, gut tschüs, Cub."

I laughed at Wolf and his German. "Have fun planning your lessons, Wolf!" I called back as I started to walk off in the direction that I knew would take me home.

"Have fun with your drug dealer, Cub!" Wolf called back.

I laughed as I loped off down the empty street. While I ran I couldn't help but wonder just what I had gotten myself into this time.

**a/n: **Good? Bad? Horrible? I hope it was okay. I didn't say what the London mission entailed because I honestly have no idea. Well, I'll update Triple Threat ASAP for anyone reading it and… yeah. Hope the chapter was up to your standards! Review! -Steph


	2. Of Drug Dealers and Girls

**-- Authors Note --**

Sorry for the long wait! Hope the chapter is up to standards though! Well, good news is that I now know the main plot/mission for this story. That would actually be thanks to MCSparrow who was actually giving me suggestions for Triple Threat but I thought it worked really good with this so… thanks!

Anyways, thank you sooooo much to my wonderful beta, Catherine, for making this chapter better!

Review!

-Steph

**The Dirty Game**

**Chapter Two – Of Drug Dealers and Girls**

_The next day_

"So, where did you go yesterday after school?" Jeff asked me the next morning as we walked up to the school.

I shrugged nonchalantly. "Nowhere really," I said vaguely.

Jeff looked at me and raised his eyebrows skeptically. I knew that even that answer wouldn't satisfy Jeff.

"I had to go and get my passport renewed," I told my friend my rehearsed lie.

Jeff responded with a simple, "Why?"

"My Grandmother fell and broke her leg. Grandfather died last year and she needs some help getting around until she's better. Mum and dad volunteered her my services."

"So you're leaving." It was more a statement then it was a question.

"Yeah."

"For how long?"

"I dunno," I added a shrug for good measure. "Until she's well enough to get around by herself, I suppose."

"Why don't your parents just put her in a nursing home?" he asked bluntly.

"She's a stubborn old lady," I laughed. "She refuses to leave her house until the day she dies."

Jeff nodded, clearly buying my lie. Then he frowned. "Why didn't you just tell me about this before?"

"I didn't know until yesterday," well, that was sort of the truth.

"What about school?" was his next question.

"I'm going to go to school in England for however long I'm there."

"Your old school?"

I weighed my two possible answers. I could either say yes or no. Jeff wouldn't know the difference. It wasn't as though he was going to come to England or anything. It wouldn't hurt anything… though it was probably information that I was not supposed to give out. I chose the safest answer in the end, "I dunno, mum said she'd try to get them to let me in for a bit."

Jeff nodded thoughtfully. We walked in silence for a few minutes before he stopped abruptly and turned to face me, a look of horror clearly spread across his face. "What about soccer?"

Of course, the team. Ever since ninth grade, the first year I'd been on the team, even after the regulation season had ended, we had practice several days a week. We continued it all throughout this year even though it was our last year of school and, consequently, the last year playing on the team together. It was more for memories sake then anything else.

"I won't be gone long," I promised after a second of thought. "It will only be a month, three tops," I hoped beyond hope that whatever this mission was about wouldn't take three months. Jeff looked defeated. "Not even that long," I assured him quickly. "I'll be back by May," that would give me two months.

"Fine," Jeff grumbled. "Where do you suppose I get myself another wing?" he made a face.

"I'm sure you can find a temporary replacement," I grinned. "It's not even the real season, we only play in games for fun and all. Get one of the JV guys," I suggested.

Jeff made another face. "JV? You've _got_ to be kidding me, man. I'm not letting a JV guy come in and take my best assisters spot."

"Then play a man short."

Jeff made another face and looked up into the clear, blue sky. "You just can't win, can you?"

"It won't be so horrible. What about… Jenson, I think his name is. He's a fair player."

"We'll see," Jeff said grimly. We walked along for a minute. "When are you leaving?" Jeff changed the topic by asking.

"Day after tomorrow." Heh, just like the title of the movie where the world is coming to an end. What a reassuring thought.

"Will you be at school tomorrow?"

I paused. "I might be, I'm not sure when my plane leaves." Well, that was true at least. I'd have to remember to ask Blunt and Mrs. Jones that later today after the whole druggie escapade was

We stopped under a tree to the side of the school. The tree was a weak, skinny thing that provided little shade. The sun was already strong at seven-thirty a.m. and any shade was welcomed.

"What's up, guys?" A new voice joined our conversation. I turned around, not really needing to but doing so nevertheless. Denny, Brendan, Ryan, Spence, JT, Casey, Matt, Jared and Brent – the rest of the starting boys Varsity team – had joined us.

"Urie's parents are sending him off to England to take care of his Granny," Jeff informed them.

The rest of the guys laughed.

They stopped when Jeff and I failed to join in on their laughter.

"Seriously?" Brendan looked from Jeff to me and back to Jeff.

"Dead."

Brendan faced me. "Aw, man, that blows."

"Tell me about it," I had to keep up the appearance. Though, it wasn't really a lie, I didn't want to go to England. I just had a feeling that nothing good would come from it.

"How long?" Casey asked me next.

"Dunno," I shrugged my shoulders. "A few months maybe."

"What about soccer?" that was from Jared.

I sighed; it was all about soccer with the guys. I didn't mind it though; it beat some of the questions that they _could_ be asking me. "I won't be gone that long," I laughed. "Use one of our reserve players in my place," I suggested, "or one of the JV guys."

They all looked stricken at my suggestion that they use a JV guy in my place.

"JV guy?" Ryan echoed, voicing aloud the rest of the teams' feelings on the matter. "You, Urie Ross, the second greatest player on the team right after Jeff, want a JV player to take your place? Are you in_sane_?"

"Yeah," Jeff agreed quickly, excited over having another argument to add to his case. "We need you on the team, man. You're every bit as important to this team as I am," if it was anyone else that had said that, it would have sounded arrogant and cocky. But with Jeff it was fine. The rest of the guys just nodded their heads. "College scouts could still be coming to watch," he warned even though we both knew that that was highly unlikely.

"Yeah," I agreed with him nevertheless. "I've already gotten my fair share of offers though and you've gotten just about every college in the country, and some outside of it, after you." Jeff frowned, he didn't want a college team, he wanted a club team.

"Alright then," Jeff began. "But do you know _why_ I was offered all those spot? Because you were there to make me look good."

I knew that wasn't completely true but I didn't comment on it further. "I'm flattered, really I am," I chose a different tactic. "But," I began, "my parents have already offered Grandmother my help until she was well again and she's accepted. I can't back out now."

"Fine. Just don't be joining any teams while you're in England," Jeff warned.

I grinned wryly at my friend. "I don't think I'll have the time for that," that answer was more truthful then any of them would ever know.

"Your spot will remain open until you get back," Jeff said next. "This is still _our_ team and I'm not letting anyone, JV or reserves alike tarnish its greatness until we're all gone. We still have three and a half months left you know."

"I know," I grinned at the rest of the team. "I'll make sure to tell Grandmother to hurry up and make her broken bones heal," I joked.

"That's the spirit!" Jeff thumped me on the back.

**&**

It wasn't until just before lunch that MI6 arrived.

We were in the class right before lunch, history. I never was terribly fond of history after my experiences with it and the teacher four years prior. It always made me feel nervous for some reason. It was also the class that always seemed to pass the slowest. The class right before lunch tends to do that.

As usual, I was sitting in the very back of the class. Jeff sat to my left and Denny and Spence to my right, the rest of the guys had a different class that period.

It had become apparent very early in the school year that there was absolutely no need to pay attention– or even feign– in this class. The teacher was an old man—I was surprised the school still let him teach. He was just _that_ old. He was plump for an old man, stark bald with liver spots. He wore big, thick glasses but was still partially blind nevertheless. He was totally oblivious to everything that happened in his classroom as he droned on and on about Heaven only knows what.

I was currently engaged in a game of catch with Jeff. Mr. Banner, the teacher—didn't even notice a soccer ball flying back and forth in the back of his classroom. Hey, it's not like you saw any of us complaining about it. We could have had Ms. Webb, one of the strictest teachers in the school.

I effortlessly caught the soccer ball when Jeff tossed it to me. I tossed it back to him and he caught it easily. It was a very monotonous routine, the same everyday. So, given that fact, I decided to liven things up a bit. Once the ball had returned to me, I threw it back to Jeff with a little added force. Jeff reached up lazily to catch it. The ball skimmed the tops of his fingers and continued its flight over his shoulder. The balls flight was cut short as it connected with the window with a sharp 'crack' and bounced off of the ledge and onto the floor.

Jeff looked at the ball and then at me before dissolving into silent laughter. I had a hard time containing my laughter. Still shaking, Jeff bent down to retrieve the soccer ball from where it had landed by his feet.

As it turns out, Mr. Banner isn't actually as deaf as we had thought. Upon hearing the ball hit the window he stopped his lecture and peered to the back of the room. His wrinkled eyes squinted behind his glasses.

"Damn birds," was all he muttered before returning to his lecture.

I was laughing hard by the time Jeff finally chucked the soccer ball back to me. It kind of hit off of my palms, hit the edge of my desk and ricocheted forwards to hit the girl in the desk in front of me in the back of the head. There was a snort from my left and a glance told me that Jeff was trying in vain to hide his amusement.

The girl in front to me—Lauren Hyde, I believe her name was—smoothed the back of her curly hair down in a huff before rounding on Jeff and I. Her blue eyes narrowed as she glared at me. "You know," she began in one of those snotty, know-it-all voices that clearly belonged to… a know-it-all to be frank, "there are some of us who actually want to learn what Mr. Banner has to offer us," she hissed.

"That's what the front row is for, Hyde," Jeff shot back with a grin and a wink.

Lauren's mouth dropped open in fury. Her mouth worked up and down a couple of times before she finally got any words out. "You two are the _most_ _infur_iating…" she trailed off.

"Yes?" Jeff quirked an eyebrow. "You're a smart girl," he reasoned with her, "finish your sentences."

I snickered and Lauren turned her glare to me.

"And _you_ are no better," she accused me.

"I wasn't included in the 'two most infuriating'?" I wondered aloud, pretending to be hurt.

She huffed and spun back around in her seat, turning her nose up in the air.

I glanced at Jeff and he shrugged. I turned back to face forward and tapped Lauren on the shoulder. She ignored my persistent poking.

"Psst, Hyde," I said in a stage whisper. Several other students were looking at us now. She still ignored me. I continued jabbing my finger in her shoulder. "Can I have my ball back?" Jeff laughed harder as she turned a vivid shade of red.

"Get it yourself," she hissed, still refusing to look at me. She stared at Mr. Banner so intensely that it had the potential to be creepy.

"Fine," I retorted with a simple shrug and I got out of my seat. I dropped down on to my hands and knees and, James Bond style, crawled over to the side of her desk.

"What are you doing?" she hissed in alarm as I reached a hand under her desk to where I could see the soccer ball sitting harmlessly.

"Getting my ball back," I responded as I lifted her leg by her ankle to get to the soccer ball. She fruitlessly tried to kick at my hand. My fingertips were just on the smooth covering of the soccer ball when Lauren Hyde decided to try another tactic.

"Mr. Banner?" She called out loudly and clearly to insure that he would hear her. I could just see her raising her arm into the air.

"Yes, Miss Hyde?" Mr. Banner called over in his wavering voice.

"Urie Ross is invading my space," she said, using that same snobby voice.

I could just feel Mr. Banner's eyes squint towards me… or what was visible of me. It really must have been a sight. My lying on my stomach with my head under Lauren Hyde's desk… oh wow. This whole thing could be made to seem wrong and dirty.

"What in Heavens name are you doing under Miss Hyde's desk, Mr. Ross?" Mr. Banner, quite frankly, sounded shocked and appalled.

After a brief second of thought, I pushed the ball towards the back of the room in the hope that Spence would retrieve it. Heaving myself out from under the desk I stood up, surreptitiously brushing the dust and dirt off of my jeans.

"Just getting my pencil," I grabbed a pencil off of Lauren's desk and held it up. I added one of those award winning smiles that always seem to work on adults… yes, even the ones over eighty.

"Alright then, sit back down."

I sat back down in my seat.

Mr. Banner looked over at us once more before returning to his lecture.

"Yo, Urie," Spence hissed from my right. I turned to face him and Spence tossed the soccer ball back to me. This time I caught it without incident.

Spence spared a glance towards Lauren and then looked back to me. He shook his head and laughed before turning back to his conversation with Denny.

History classes were always more of a social hour then an actual class. I felt bad for Mr. Banner in a way but I wasn't eager to start convincing people to listen to him just because he was old. History was one of the best classes of the day. I mean, what could be better then doing whatever you want for forty-five minutes?

My game of catch with Jeff continued in the same monotonous way it had before the whole window and Lauren Hyde incident.

I chose not to give an overly large amount of thought to my task that would occur later in the day. I found that it was always safer to play mindless games of catch in classes then actually think. Thinking only ever hurt you in the end.

I would be lying if I said that I didn't hope that MI6 forgot about the whole 'mission' later today. What a relief that would be. Every minute that passed without me being summoned to the office was a happy one. It wasn't exactly my thing to run around fraternizing with drug dealers, shocking as that may seem.

I tossed the soccer ball back to Jeff and he prepared to toss it back to me just as Mr. Banner called out my name.

"Mr. Ross?"

"Yes, sir?" I turned to face forwards. The ball, already being airborne by the time I turned away, bounced off of the side of my head. I blinked, dazed for a moment and watched it roll down the aisle. I turned to the side and, just as expected, Jeff was near dying in a fit of laughter. He had his head in his arms, which were on the desk. He shoulders shook and he stomped his feet on the ground silently. He looked up, taking a gasp of air, looked at me and collapsed all over again. I shook my head and turned back to Mr. Banner who, unsurprisingly, appeared to have no idea of what had just happened.

"You are wanted in the office immediately with all of your things," Mr. Banner relayed the message from whichever secretary he had spoken to. "Pack up your books then."

I didn't actually have anything to pack up so, with a groan, I stood up with my bag. I made an extra exaggerated movement as I slung my bag onto my shoulder and, just as my intention was, knocked into Jeff's shoulder. It would have hurt him more if there had actually been books in the bag but it still had the desired affect.

Spence and Denny snickered off to the side. Lauren Hyde rolled her eyes in obvious disgust.

"You leaving for England?" Jeff asked quietly.

"Day after tomorrow." Again with the world ending. So promising. I walked down the rows of desk and finally out of the door with a half-hearted 'good-bye' to Mr. Banner. I trudged down the hallway, I would have enjoyed going slow and if it had been anyone _besides_ MI6 waiting for me in the office then I would have.

I sighed as I pushed open the office doors. I stepped into the overly air-conditioned room and looked around. I really did not have to look far. Mrs. Jones stood next to the secretary's desk. She wore another one of her black pantsuits and had her black handbag over her shoulder as she sucked on a peppermint.

She looked up upon hearing me enter the room.

"Ah! Urie!" she took a step towards me. I stopped by the door, raising an eyebrow at her. "Yes, yes, I have signed you out already," she assured me the way a mother would assure a kindergartener. "Now let's go, we can't keep that kind doctor waiting now, can we?"

I really did feel embarrassed for her. Maybe she had not had much experience with children… She had, of course only been reacquainted with her husband and two children four years ago. They had been presumed dead for years. Because of that, she would of course not have had much experience with schools and such but I still had the decency to feel embarrassed for the woman.

"Um, yeah, I suppose," was my reply.

Mrs. Jones ushered me out of the office and then out of the school without another word. I followed her as she walked briskly down the stairs in front of the school and then proceeded down the walk.

I looked ahead and nearly groaned. I should have expected it, really I should have. There was nothing at all surprising about the black Hummer H2 that sat parked on the curb. MI6's preferred mode of transportation.

I had worked hard these past four years to keep up the illusion that I was just a normal teenage boy. I had done well, too! No one ever suspected me of the things as they had in England. No one questioned my frequent visits to England. They all just assumed that I was visiting family! I was sure that now some of that hard work would be ruined.

The expansive "lawn" (if one could call it a lawn) was already filled with students who were enjoying the last fifteen minutes of their lunch break in the warm (some would say hot) sun. Many a gaze was fixed in the direction of the Hummer. Normally it wouldn't have been so big of a deal; plenty of the kids in Scottsdale had expensive cars. It was merely how much the Hummer gleamed and the fact that it had shown up in the middle of the school day. The fact that Mrs. Jones had put on a pair of heavily tinted sunglasses as soon as we had stepped through the doors did not help matter much in my favor.

I kept my head down and walked a little faster.

"Yo! Ross! What's with the car, man?" A voice shouted over from somewhere off to the left.

A glance over told me that it had been Jenson—the sophomore I had mentioned to Jeff as a substitute for me.

Jenson's yells attracted more attention.

I changed my mind; I never did like Jenson much.

**&**

Neither Mrs. Jones nor Blunt provided much company during the car ride. They sat in the back with me and Blunt rolled up that wall thing that separated us from the driver.

"Do I find out my mission yet?" I attempted to ask once again since, though I still was not looking forward to it, I was curious.

"Focus, Urie," Blunt chided me none too gently. I sat back in my seat. "You will know everything you need to know tomorrow but for now you must focus on the task ahead."

"Yes, sir," I muttered. "Where in California are we going?" I attempted asking this time.

"We will drive to Los Angeles and then to a small airport. You will then be transferred to a chopper and flown to San Francisco where you will then be given a car which you will use to drive to Baker's Beach where you will meet with our Mr. Damien at promptly six thirty."

"Why the beach? I asked out of curiosity.

"Baker's Beach is a very public place. It provides wonderful views of the Golden Gate Bridge. It is a safe place to meet; plenty of other people will be around."

"Fine," I sighed. "I never did much like the beach."

Blunt chose to ignore my latest comment. I stared out of the window at the rapidly passing scenery as the Hummer raced along the highway.

Two and a half hours later we were in Los Angeles. Blunt and Mrs. Jones had opted to stay behind, feeling that it would be wiser to not be nearby if Damien were to suspect something. As far as he knew, I was the son of a rich businessman, that would explain the helicopter if need be.

Fifteen minutes later I was sitting in the back of a chopper on my way to San Francisco to help rid the world of its drug problems… just in a more orthodox way than Damien Cray.

Blunt and Mrs. Jones hadn't given me anything else. All that I had with me was my cell phone and the picture of 'Damien' shoved in my back pocket. Blunt had said that he and Mrs. Jones would meet me at the airport once my 'meeting' was over.

I studied the picture as I sat in the chopper, the propellers whirling away above my head. I half expected the picture to morph into a guy who actually resembled someone would pose a threat to society. But, it didn't.

We arrived in San Francisco after about an hour long flight. A survey of the area was transmitted to the pilot via whatever other agents MI6 had in the area and was carefully reviewed before I was allowed out of the helicopter. The pilot quickly ushered me across the small landing strip and to a navy Jeep Liberty that sat parked on the edge.

"Good luck, Cub," the pilot said before he sprinted back to the helicopter and was once again in the air.

I looked around uneasily. Was it just me or was this whole mission being way more played out then Blunt had said? My hand strayed to my hip where my gun would usually be strapped. The spot was empty though, Mrs. Jones had told me that it was Damien's custom to check people over before conversing with them. _That_ made me feel safe.

I eyed the vehicle before me suspiciously. I opened the door and slid into the drivers seat. I felt around under the seat for the keys and found not only them but a small hand gun secured to the bottom of the seat.

Well, that was a relief. Nice to know that there are some people out there that want to keep me alive.

Someone had entered the directions to Baker's Beach in the Jeep's navigational system and all I had to do was listen to the voice and do what it said. That would have been wonderful if not for two things. Firstly, the voice was highly annoying and sounded like a female robot, and, secondly, she kept telling me to turn before the actual turnoff. If I had seriously listened to this woman then I would have been off the edge of a cliff and into the ocean. I excused the fact that she kept telling me to drive into oncoming traffic because I suppose she couldn't really know where the other cars were.

I finally just gave up and tuned the voice out, following the signs along the highway for Baker's Beach. I parked in the small parking lot adjacent to the beach. I took my time shutting off the Jeep and getting out, shoving the picture under the seat quickly.

I stood by the Jeep a minute or two longer, casually surveying my surroundings. The lot was filled with cars that normal people owned, there were houses across the street and, in front of me was the beach. Sand and water - standard beach. The Golden Gate Bridge was visible in the distance. The bright sun glinted off of the water. There were brightly colored umbrellas, blankets and chairs spread out across the sand. The lifeguard sat on his high platform. People were swimming, sunbathing, reading, and playing sports while children built sandcastles.

Nothing looked out of place, that much I knew for certain.

But, somewhere down there, among all of those normal people, was a drug dealer. Perhaps more then one but I was only after one in particular.

I knew what Damien looked like but I still did not how I expected to _find_ him. I mean, I couldn't very well walk all over the beach and look at every person.

So, I elected that my only option was to walk along the beach a bit and either a) find Damien or b) hope that he knew what I looked like.

And it was as I was doing just that that I realized that I really was not dressed to be on the beach. I wore a pair of jeans, a Scottsdale Academy soccer t-shirt and a pair of Nike's, not exactly prime beach wear. I paused by the entrance to the beach and eyed the growing pile of sandals and other footwear there. I opted to keep my sneakers on, not quite knowing what kind of mess I could get into.

I walked along the top of the beach, keeping close to the low fence that separated that beach from the dunes. I had to veer my route down to the left when I came upon a volleyball court where there was a game in session. It didn't look like anything serious, just a game among friends, but I went around it. Walking through it would have been rude and would have drawn unnecessary attention.

Through the years, I've learned that the less attention that is focused on me the better. If only other people could seem aware of that rule…

I glanced at the volleyball game as I passed. Perhaps for too long. There were about six teenagers on each side; I'd say each was about my age. As I watched, a girl wearing a green and white bikini top with a pair of white board shorts bumped the volleyball back over the net. The opposing team missed and the girls' team crowded around her to congratulate her and celebrate their point.

I looked a bit closer at the girl. She was tanned and toned, her stomach, arms and legs clearly showing that she was fit. She was barefoot, just like about every other person on that beach other then me, and her dark hair was in a ponytail that swished back and forth as she moved. She had a big smile as she laughed with her friends and teammates. There was a light spattering of freckles along her noise and her eyes…

The girl then looked up at me questioningly and I realized I had been watching her for far too long.

She was pretty, that was all there was to it—or so I though. Sure, I'd had my fair share of girlfriends over the years, I was eighteen after all. But, after a girlfriend had asked to come to England with me on one of my trips there the past year, I kind of drew the line. That was just stepping into unnecessary waters and, besides, I operated better alone.

The volleyball girl, however, seemed different. And when she looked at me I was met with a pair of startling bright blue eyes. She stared at me for a moment with a questioning gaze, as though she were trying to place me.

I turned around quickly and fought hard to keep my leisurely and casual pace as I walked.

How could I have been so _stupid_?

San Fran_cisco_.

How did I forget?

It was a mistake; it could not be what I thought.

The worst was confirmed, however, when the girl called to my back in an alarmed yet curious voice, an unmistakably female and British voice, "Alex?" I couldn't stop, I had to keep walking. If I stopped then she'd know who I was. "Alex!" she yelled again in an excited voice. I wished she'd stop saying that name.

I could hear her footsteps as she ran across the sand towards me, covering the ground much faster then I was. I was powerless to do anything except keep up the pace I had set for myself back upon entering the beach.

She skidded to a stop just in front of me and turned to face me. I had to stop now.

"Alex!" she gasped happily, her bright blue eyes sparkling in happiness. She made as to hug me but I stepped backwards.

"I'm sorry," I said, "but do I know you?" I made sure that my voice kept the fake American accent.

The girl stopped and lowered her arms; her eyes ran over me in a funny way. "I'm certain it's you!" she said.

"I don—"

"It's me, Alex!" she finally burst out. "Sabina Pleasure! Don't you remember me?" she looked a bit hurt there.

"I'm afraid I don't know you, and my name is not Alex."

"No, you're Alex Rider! You're from England! I met you at Wimbledon four years ago and… don't you remember me, Alex?" she asked softly.

She had to stop saying that name. "My name is Urie and I live in Arizona, I have for all my life. I've never been to England," I said.

"No! I _know_ you! You're _Alex Rider_! I'd recognize you anywhere!"

"You have me mistaken for someone else," I tried to tell Sabina but she wouldn't listen.

"When we were fourteen… don't you remember?"

"I've already told you… my name is not Alex, its Urie Ross."

She fell silent for a moment or two. "No," she shook her head determinably. "They did something to you, didn't they? MI6 did something to you. I'd know you anywhere, Alex. You may be taller and tanner and your hair lighter but your eyes are the same! I'd know your eyes anywhere!"

"MI-what?" I chose the safe way out and played dumb.

She groaned in despair and looked down at the sand. She traced her foot through it, making funny little swirly patterns. "Why won't you listen to me?" she finally said in a small voice.

"You really must have me mistaken for someone else, miss."

"No. No I don't! It's you, I know it is." She always was stubborn like that. I see four years and a new country can't change much in a person.

I was at a loss as to how to continue when I heard my name being yelled once again. Except this time the person didn't say 'Alex Rider'—thank, God, for that—they said, "Urie? Is that you?"

I glanced over my shoulder to see a man with tanned skin and dark hair, the earrings in his ear reflecting the sun. He was barefoot—of course—and dressed in a pair of denim shorts and a white, short-sleeved button down that was left unbuttoned.

He looked liked a normal guy but I'd recognize him just about anywhere. Damien.

I faked a smile and waved.

I turned back to Sabina. "See? I told you my name was Urie. I'm here visiting a friend. I think you had better be getting back to your game now." Sabina looked over my shoulder to where her friends were waiting for her, watching us curiously.

She turned back to me slowly and looked into my eyes. She shook her head and moved around me without another word.

I didn't look back as I moved towards Damien.

Just another unpleasant reminder of my past. That was all.

"Urie Ross," Damien said once I was standing right in front of him. It wasn't a question, more of a statement.

"Yes," I nodded, not saying anything else.

"You're a difficult man to find, Urie."

"I could say the same thing about you." I honestly didn't mean to say it, it just slipped out.

Damien looked startled for the briefest of moments but the look quickly turned into a grin. "A bit of humor too," he commented as his eyes scanned me. He was clearly looking for any noticeable sign that I was there spying on him. He circled me to look me over. I felt uneasy but stayed where I was.

Thankfully though, Damien did not go into outright frisk mode right there on the beach in front of all those people and children. Now _that_ would have been a topper on even my list of awkward situations.

"Walk with me, Urie," Damien demanded after he was sure that I was completely unarmed. He started walking off down the beach and I followed him after a moment.

We walked to a secluded spot on the beach where there were almost no people.

Damien turned towards me. His face and dark eyes were kept carefully blank and void of any emotion at all.

"So, Urie, I hear that you are in need of my services."

**&**

An hour and a half later, I had finished with Damien. I had a time and meeting spot secured for the next week. Damien would have his 'stock' with him at the time. Including the marijuana I had requested.

I shook my head. What a perfectly ridiculous mission.

I mean, not that I think that these drug dealers should have free reign to sell to children and all—which is apparently what Damien specialized in—but I didn't quite understand why this mission was so necessary. There had to be other ways that MI6 could get to him.

As I got back into the dark Jeep Liberty, I couldn't help the feeling that there was more to this mission then I knew at the time.

**a/n: **Review!


	3. Change In Plans

**Authors Note—**

Hey, guys! Sorry for the looooong wait. I promise it will never happen again… at least not as long as it was for this chapter :) Anyways, I just have one thing to say before I get on to the chapter—the last chapter I got, like, half the amount of reviews I got for the last one. So, this chapter needs 16 or more reviews for another update. Oh, and my Untitled AR story needs at least 8 more for an update.

Anyways. Thanks tons to Catherine for being an amazing beta and making the chapter oh so much better. And I'm sorry for all the spots that I just confused you in. lol. Oh, and thanks again to Catherine for providing the name for the group in this story.

Oh. I lied… sorry. I have one other thing to say… everything that Blunt says about Alex/Urie's mission is basically a fancy way of saying that he knows nothing about the group it involves ;) Enjoy!

Review!

xoSteph

**The Dirty Game**

**Chapter Three— Change In Plans **

_Thursday _

Turns out, MI6 hadn't been telling the whole truth. They said I'd leave for England on Friday. As it turns out, I guess it was rather lucky that I had already packed my bags because they showed up at my house on Thursday morning as I was about to leave for school and announced that there had been a change of plans.

It had taken some adjusting, but I'd gotten used to living with a mother and a father—and an aunt, uncle and cousin, too. MI6 had provided us with a big, and nice, house in a good part of Scottsdale. It had a pool and all. Mom and Aunt Susannah opened up an art gallery for 'fun'. MI6 said that they would provide my family with all the money we would need but mom and Aunt Susannah said they'd get bored without something to do and, apparently, that something was an art gallery. Dad and Ian were 'bankers'. They worked as a team and did easy jobs for MI6. MI6 tutors helped AlexI get caught up with his schoolwork. Of course, they all had different names.

I wasn't allowed to tell any of them why I was going to England—of course they knew I was going, they just didn't know why. That should have been my first clue that something more than what they were telling me was going on.

I was rather surprised when I walked into the kitchen and saw Blunt and Mrs. Jones sitting at the round kitchen table with mom, dad and Ian. I actually walked back out of the room and then back in just to make sure I wasn't hallucinating or anything.

"Good morning, Urie," Mrs. Jones said.

I eyed her and Blunt suspiciously. I'd learned from experience that they never came about to just chat and catch up so I snapped, "What do you want?"

Which, in turn, made mom gasp and say, "Urie! Where are your manners?"

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"Take a seat, Urie," Blunt said. I sat down in an empty chair across from Blunt and Mrs. Jones and waited. "There have been a change of plans, Urie," Blunt began.

"What do you mean?" I asked when Blunt failed to say anything else.

"We have rescheduled your flight to England to today," Mrs. Jones explained. "We were informed of an opening on an earlier flight and have decided that the sooner you get there the better."

"I'm flying commercial?" was what I said.

"It will keep up appearance," Blunt droned, "just in case someone is watching. It is much less suspicious if you arrive on a commercial air flight."

I nodded in understanding. "What time does it leave at?"

"Two o'clock."

"So what time are you getting me from school?" I asked.

"You're not going to school today, Urie," Blunt said.

"What? I thought you said—"

"I presume that you would like to know your mission, Urie," Blunt said with his dry sort of humor. "Briefing, Urie."

"Oh." So I'd finally get to figure out just what I was going to be doing.

"You can tell him here," dad spoke up.

Blunt turned to dad. "I'm sorry, James—" that was dads new name "—but that is not information that is free to be shared."

"This is my son you are talking about here," dad protested. "I think I have a right to know why you are sending him off to another country."

"Use your head, James," Blunt said dryly. "You know that I cannot reveal the details of a mission to anyone outside of those it directly concerns."

"Anything that involves my son involves me." It was kind of embarrassing. I was eighteen and I thought I had proved that I could take care of myself.

"I know where your concern comes from, James, I really do," Mrs. Jones assured him in a kind voice. "But the less people that know about this the better. We cannot have more people than necessary knowing about this. I know that it may not seen fair, James, and if I were in your position then I would surely think the same as you are but this is just how things work and Urie is eighteen and, therefore, he is legally an adult."

"What are the risks?" Mom was the next person to speak.

Blunt and Mrs. Jones glanced briefly at each other before Mrs. Jones answered mom's question, "It should be rather… safe. This is not a mission that is dangerous and should be completed fairly quickly, perhaps a month or two." I guess that was 'fairly quickly'.

I rubbed my eyes and yawned. So I'd stayed up late studying for an English test for nothing. Figures. "I guess it's a good thing I already packed."

"We shouldn't waste any more time, Urie," Blunt said rather unfeelingly. "You still need to be briefed and I daresay you have to learn to put in your contacts." Right. What color were my eyes supposed to be again? Green? I didn't really care.

I sighed. "Yeah, sure, let's go."

--+--

Mom and dad weren't quite happy with my departure even as I got into the black Rolls Royce that seemed to be MI6's signature car.

They took me back to the Six Monkey's and I had to try hard not to laugh as I read the sign above the door—

_Six Monkey's_

_Exquisite and priceless art_

_For the art lover_

There was a middle aged couple in the store looking intently at a large painting by some famous artist. They talked quietly amongst themselves about the meaning of the painting. I glanced at it; it looked like a bunch of squiggles of paint splatter to me. I guessed I was not an art lover.

The couple didn't even notice as the bell jingled above the door and Blunt and Mrs. Jones escorted me to the back of the store. I wondered what would have happened if they _had_ noticed. Would they have been the type to have thought to grownups wearing all black and sunglasses were suspicious? Maybe not.

I sat down at the same table in the room that I had been in several days earlier. Blunt and Mrs. Jones took their seats and Mrs. Jones set another file on the table in front of her.

"So," I decided to prompt the conversation forwards, "what's my mission, boss?" I joked.

Mrs. Jones bent her head forwards to hide her small but Blunt didn't seem to appreciate my little joke. He wasn't one for humor. "You're mission is of great importance to England and **its** schoolchildren."

"Alright."

"Your job in San Francisco yesterday was a little practice mission for your coming mission in England."

"More drug dealers?" I asked.

"You do have a flight to make, Urie," Blunt said with a little sigh, "so if you could do without the interruptions things would get dome that much faster."

"Sorry. Go ahead."

Blunt squinted his gray eyes at me. He motioned to Mrs. Jones and she produced a sheet of paper from her manila folder and handed it to Blunt. He glanced briefly at it. "There have been reports from the agents we've assigned to the area of Brookland Prep that there is a van that parks down the street from the front of the school. There is a man that reportedly sells drugs to the students." Blunt took another sheet from Mrs. Jones and slid it across the table to me.

It was a large picture that was slightly unfocused, probably taken from a fair distance away.

I looked at it and almost laughed out loud. It was a picture of a man who could have been in his mid to late twenties. He was bald headed and had five studs in his ear. The man held a cell phone to his ear and his mouth was opened. The place where his two front teeth should have been was bare.

I rubbed a hand over my eyes and laughed softly. Skoda. This what they were so on about? This was the 'big mission'?

"I would appreciate it if you could at least appear serious, Urie," Blunt said stiffly.

I looked up. "Sorry. It's just that," I picked up the picture and pointed to it, "this guy, Skoda, has been selling around my sch—Brookland Prep," I hurriedly corrected myself, "forever. Besides selling drugs to minors he really isn't a threat."

Blunt fixed his small glare on me. "Children are being exposed to drugs and alcohol younger and younger every year and every year more and more schoolchildren fall into the trap. The children all over the world are the future of the world so I would say that this is a problem, Urie."

"I don't know what's going on with you guys and stopping all the drug dealers of the world recently but you can't stop them all," I said.

"The point is not the drug dealers around the world, Mr. Ross," Blunt was getting a bit annoyed with me. "The point, at this moment, is with what is going on at Brookland Prep… and within it, too."

That sparked my interest. "Within it?"

"Yes. If you could stop the interruptions then we could have already gotten to this." I was silent and after several moments, in which I was perfectly silent, Blunt continued, "The man you refer to as 'Skoda' is working for a higher group called Kill or Cure or the KOC Group for short. The KOC is a group that is growing rapidly in its numbers. KOC is a group that is trying to eliminate the drug problems in schools and with children all over the world. But," Blunt said firmly when he saw me open my mouth, "KOC is trying to solve the world's drug problems among children by going into the schools."

"That makes absolutely no sense," I couldn't help it, it just burst out. "Skoda sells _drugs_ to kids, how is that helping any problems?"

Blunt held up a hand to stop me before I could go any further. "They do not sell drugs… at least not normal drugs. The drugs that they sell are drugs that are laced with something similar to what Julia Rothman had the school children injected with… I assume that you remember the incident quite well." Blunt didn't wait for my answer before he continued, "We are not, at this moment, exactly sure what it is that the drugs contain but we do know that it is some sort of lethal chemical that will be activated much the same as Julia Rothman planned to do. Do you understand so far?" Blunt glanced at me quickly before looking to another paper Mrs. Jones had slid across the table to him.

I thought for a second. "Not really," I admitted. "Why are they selling spiked drugs?"

"I was going to get to that," Blunt said in a voice that said it was a stupid question. I leaned back and waited for him to continue. "KOC's goal is to annihilate the world's drug problems—I suppose you could say it is similar to what Damien Cray tried to do but KOC is directly targeting the schools and are using a method that is a bit more foolproof then bombs. But, just as Damien Cray was KOC has no problem in wiping out hundreds of thousands of people to get their message across."

I nodded. I understood what Blunt was saying but it just seemed a little out there for me. "Is Scorpia involved?" I asked the important question.

Blunt didn't even look at me as he answered, he continued shuffling through papers, "No. Scorpia is not involved."

"Are you positive?"

"Yes we are positive, Urie. We have found out everything that there is to know about KOC and they have no immediate links to Scorpia."

I thought for a second. "So there is a chance that they are involved."

Blunt finally pushed his papers to the side and looked at me. He pushed his gray glasses up his nose and folded his hands on top of the table. "Yes, Urie, there is a chance that they are involved. There is a chance that Scorpia is involved with everything that is going on in the world."

I chose not to respond. I remembered something that Blunt had said earlier. "You said that they are inside Brookland, too."

"I did. The school is wired, bugged, so that they know what is going on at all times."

"Is this just at Brookland?"

"No, this is happening in schools all over the world."

I sighed. "So what's my job? Stop KOC?" I guessed.

Blunt nodded and I almost laughed. "We need you to get the source that will transmit the signal to the chemicals that will then cause the chemicals to be released into the bodies of your peers who will then die." I blinked. Wow. Blunt really knows how to lay it on.

"How am I supposed to go about finding this transmitter? And what does it look like?"

Blunt slid another photograph across to me. I glanced at it briefly. "You're joking, right? This is a normal, silver palm pilot. How am I supposed find it? Would you like me to romp all across England and take everyone's palm pilots? Because I don't quite think that that will wor—"

"We have reason to believe that there is an official, or representative, from KOC working inside Brookland Prep."

My stomach clenched briefly. "You mean like a teacher?"

"That seems to be the most likely conclusion, yes." _Please_ not the history teacher.

"And you don't know what teacher or administrator this would be, correct?"

Blunt eyed me; he didn't look too pleased with my question. "That would be correct," he said finally.

I nodded. "So if I don't know the teacher or administrator that is working for KOC --if there even is one—then how am I supposed to find this palm pilot? I'm sure that there is more then one person in Brookland Prep that has one."

"If you had looked carefully at the photograph, Urie, then your question would already be answered." Blunt slid another picture in front of me—this one was of the back of the palm pilot. He traced his finger under where the manufacturing number and location was printed. "Do you see this symbol right here, Urie?" I looked closer and could, indeed, see a small symbol engraved a small distance under the cereal number.

"Yes."

"Good. Can you see what it is a symbol of?"

I looked closer. "It looks like…" I squinted to make sure I was seeing the right thing. "It looks like a bird," I finally said.

"Right," Blunt said. "It is a picture of a hawk, the symbol of KOC."

I nodded in understanding. "But why would they put the symbol for their organization on the back of the palm pilot?" I wondered aloud. "What if someone saw it?"

"The depiction is quite small and a normal citizen would not notice it, assuming that the man it belongs to ever misplaced it. And even if this citizen did happen to notice it, KOC is still a new organization and do not seem to want their name and mission to be spread around to the general public."

"What do I do once I've got the palm pilot? I mean, do I take it or what?"

"You take it. You will be provided with a replica of the palm pilot at the end of the briefing. You swap the palm pilots once you are sure you've got the right one and you call us immediately. We will have agents on the scene before KOC even has a chance to notice that the transmitter is missing."

Everything was silent for a moment. "I'm still not understanding. This all seems rather un-thought out to me. I suppose I understand what they are doing with the drugs and all, I've seen it all before but, it just seems to me that the way you are talking about retrieving the transmitter is not the greatest way to go about it. I mean, what's to say that they don't have a backup transmitter?"

"They probably do," Blunt said simply. He was busy scribbling down something on a pad of legal paper. Before I could ask him to explain he said, "Perhaps I did not phrase what you are supposed to do the correct way. Your mission it _not_," he looked up at me to stress his point, "to just go into Brookland Prep, find the palm pilot and leave. That is never all it takes in a job such as the one you are being given. Here is what you will have to do; Wolf has already been stationed in England. You will recall that I said that the school has been bugged thoroughly and efficiently with sound and video recorders. The first step is to find these systems but it must be done discreetly and slowly for, I am sure, someone will be watching the tapes around the clock. You are working with Wolf and, as a student; you will gain a different perspective on your surroundings. You and Wolf will work out how you want to dismantle the bugging in the school amongst yourselves, I am confident that two accomplished agents can do it without getting caught.

"You will be in constant contact with Mrs. Jones and myself at all times but you will be unable to come to the Royal & General just incase someone who we don't want to see sees. Now," Blunt folded his hands on top of the table top, "I can tell you the background of your mission and I can tell you your mission but I cannot tell you how to go about doing it, as you already know the ideal plan is very rarely the one that works in the end. As I've said, KOC is a new group that seems to like keeping themselves out of the limelight. As you work you will find out more about them and their intentions. I know that we are not able to provide you with nearly enough information to fill in the pieces—you will have to find the missing pieces on your own. Do you have any questions regarding your objective?"

I shook my head, "No."

"Very good." Blunt jotted something down on his pad of paper.

I cleared my throat. "Do I get any, you know, 'gadgets'?"

Blunt didn't seem to hear me so Mrs. Jones spoke up for the first time during the briefing. "Have we ever not given you something, Urie?" I hated those cynical answers they always gave me.

"No…" I said. "Do I get a gun?"

Mrs. Blunt watched me thoughtfully for a moment. They'd given me a gun on all of my missions once I had gotten a bit older then fourteen. "Yes you will have a gun but it will not be in a book… that idea didn't seem to work quite well the last time we tried it," her dark eyes twinkled a bit. It took me a second to realize that she was joking. Mrs. Jones had just made a joke. I never seriously thought I'd see the day.

"Okay. Anything else?"

"Mr. Smithers has designed several items for you that you will receive once in London."

"Okay."

"Do you have any more questions, Urie?" Blunt spoke again.

I thought for a second before saying, "I do, actually. It's about my cover while I'm there. I know I'm supposed to be an eighteen-year-old in his last year of schooling and I've just moved from Arizona with my parents because my father—who is a doctor—got a job offer at a hospital—"

"St. Dominic's," Blunt put in.

"St. Dominic's," I amended for Blunt's benefit. "But you say that I am working with Wolf—who is a teacher in the school I am a student in—and if the school is bugged then how am I going to be working with Wolf? And if someone saw me with a teacher out of school and we seemed to be rather well acquainted it would surely raise a few questions. And then there's the fact that a new teacher and a new student arrive at the same time. Could this not be suspicious in anyway to KOC?"

"You will be living in a house with the agents that will be acting as your mother and father. Wolf will be living in the house next door to the one you are in. There is a special corridor beneath the two houses basements and connects them. While you are at home, you and Wolf will be free to work together," Blunt said. "As for you both arriving in a very close timeframe, you are coming from the US and Wolf is coming from Newcastle. There should be nothing to question and if there happens to be any questions within KOC... well, that is precisely why you and Wolf will not draw attentions to yourselves while out in public eye."

"Got it. Now, who are my 'mother' and 'father'?"

"Two of our senior agents that are highly qualified for the job. You will meet them shortly as they will be joining you on your plane ride."

"I know they'll be aware of the mission and who I am and everything but are they involved in anyway?"

"Your father is the newest surgeon at St. Dominic's and your mother has gotten a job as partner in a law firm that is not connected to MI6 in any way. Their jobs are to find out what they can by not risking themselves or you in any way."

"Got it, I've got everything you've already said so is their anything else I need to know about myself?"

"Your history will not be a problem and it is by no means a pressing concern at this time," Mrs. Jones said. "Of course a whole alternate life has been drawn up for you and Wolf and the other two agents. Wolf will give you a folder with everything you will need to know about yourself once you arrive in London. We request that you read it thoroughly. There is just one other thing that we shall tell you about your life today, however. Urie Ross has a dog."

And she said it so seriously, too. "I do?"

"Yes," Blunt said as Mrs. Jones got up from her seat at the table and exited the room. "He is a beagle that you like to call Bud but whose name is actually Phoenix." I resisted the urge to laugh. Who named a dog after where they lived? Apparently I did. "Now," I paid attention once again when I realized that Blunt wasn't quite done, "Phoenix is a special dog. Phoenix has been trained since his birth to sniff out drugs. You may find him quite useful."

"Beagles don't usually do that kind of work," I remarked thoughtfully.

"And there are very few that would ever think a beagle would be doing this work. Beagles are, in fact, very intelligent dogs. They have been used as hunt dogs and that is essentially what Phoenix is. He is a highly intelligent dog that clearly knows his work but will still act like a dog."

Mrs. Jones re-entered the room with something held in her hand. There was an excited sounding panting and a soft scampering of claws. I looked over. Mrs. Jones was holding onto a leash that was, in turn, clipped to the collar of a dog. A beagle, Phoenix. He was normal size for a beagle, brown, black and white with a sharp face, floppy ears and big, almost human like, eyes. He was jumping about and his tail was waving wildly. Blunt was right, he did act just like a normal dog.

Mrs. Jones let go of the dog—Phoenix—and he bounded over to me. I pushed my chair out and Otto jumped onto my and put his front paws on my knees and peered up into my face. He opened his mouth after a moment and barked. I got a nice whiff of dog breath.

I laughed and patted his soft head and said, "Hey, Bud. You look like a cool dog." Phoenix—I think I liked Bud better—barked in agreement. I laughed again in patted his stomach. I had a feeling that me and Bud would get along well.

"Here you go, Urie," Mrs. Jones handed me the leash before sitting back down in her chair.

"Now to introduce you to your parents," Mrs. Jones said and she buzzed the secretary that had an office just off the main gallery floor. "Send Agent Gettig and Agent Hennies back," was all she said.

"Yes, ma'am," a young female voice answered over the intercom before Mrs. Jones clicked off.

The door opened several moments later and a man and woman walked through. Both looked quickly around the room. They were probably both in their forties. Both looked calm and composed. The man was tall and broad shouldered with dark hair that was just flecked with the smallest bits of gray. He had light green eyes—perhaps why I was getting the same color for my eyes—and a kind and intelligent face that managed to be boyish and tough at the same time. He wore a pair of jeans with a light green polo and a jacket.

The woman was several inches shorter then the man but seemed just as capable as the man. She had blonde hair cut to her shoulders and brown eyes. She was slender but well fit. She wore a black knee length, A-line skirt with a light blur blouse and a pair of black suede moccasin type shoes.

All in all, the man and woman made a rather attractive—and professional— couple, though they were probably indifferent to each other in that way.

Blunt and Mrs. Jones stood and so I did too.

"Urie," Blunt made the introductions, "This is Andrew Gettig and Paula Hennies," Andrew and Paula smiled friendly at me. "Though," Blunt continued, "you shall know them as Michael Ross and Allison Ross. Agent Gettig, Agent Hennies, this is Alex Rider," I looked at Blunt when he used my real name, "though he is Urie Ross in every aspect."

Andrew—or Michael—stepped towards me and shook my hand enthusiastically. "Pleasure to meet you, my boy! I've read your file and, may I say, that it is quite impressive!"

I was a bit taken aback by his enthusiasm—he reminded me of Glen Carver. "Thank you," I smiled back at him as he let go of my hand. "It's good to meet you too, sir."

"Nonsense, son," Andrew/Michael said. "You may call me Andrew… or I suppose it would be Michael…"

"I think you mean dad," Paula/Allison said lightly with a little laugh. Andrew/Michael looked at me and shrugged. She turned back to me and smiled warmly as she shook my hand. "Nice to meet you."

She wasn't anything like Belinda Troy. I smiled at her. "Nice to meet you too… mom?" I guessed.

"You got it, son," she joked back. I could already tell we'd get along nicely. Andrew and Paula—as I decided to call them—were nice people and I supposed it wouldn't be so horrible living with them.

Phoenix decided, at that moment, that he was tired of being ignored and twisted his leash around my legs as he butted in between me and Andrew and Paula. He turned in a circle on his haunches and looked up at us.

"And I suppose that is Phoenix?" Andrew rose an eyebrow.

"Yup," I replied as I untangled my legs from the leash and somehow managed to stay upright as Phoenix pulled the leash tighter before I was completely freed.

Paula crouched down and let Phoenix sniff at her face before she scratched him behind his ears. "He's cute," she decided as she fingered his silky ears. "Doesn't look much like an MI6 operative but he'll do."

Andrew and Paula stayed to talk with Blunt about the mission as Mrs. Jones took me into the bathroom right off the briefing room. She handed me several boxes before opening one herself—my contacts and several extra pairs. After she showed me how to put them in, I tried to put mine in. Although it was done a bit awkwardly at first I managed all the same.

Mrs. Jones left the bathroom and returned to Blunt, Andrew and Paula. I was about to follow her but paused at the mirror above the sink. I looked in at my reflection.

I blinked several times, trying to get used to the different eyes I saw. It was strange. My body, face and hair were all the same but the change of eye colors made me seem so different. Maybe it really would work. Maybe they really wouldn't recognize me.

And then I thought of how Sabina had recognized me so clearly the day before despite being taller and older and my hair several shades lighter and a good two inches longer. I just hoped that the eyes are what really would do the trick. For everyone involved, it would be so much easier if I wasn't recognized as Alex Rider.

**a/n:** yeah I know, kind of boring. The next chapter will be a lot better! Review! -Steph


	4. Home Sweet Home

**Authors Note**

I must be giving you a heart attack seeing this.

Erm… well… at least it hasn't been a year, right? Ha-ha. Only ALMOST a year. Anyways, sooooo sorry for the wait. School's crazy and the summer was suuuper busy. And I started the chapter once and then my laptop committed laptop suicide and ate my almost finished chapter. And that's upsetting. Because it was long. And semi okay. But now I have a new laptop—that's GREEN—and it is showing no signs of suicidal thoughts… _yet_. And then I was just bored and went on Barnes and Noble and saw that the next Alex Rider book was coming out in November! And then I almost had a hard attack from the excitement. And THEN I decided to get on with it and write something!! This chapter may not be the greatest but I think it should be okay… because I haven't updated in a while—understatement.

1003 days and counting to the 2010 World Cup,

Steph

PS: I've been reading the last chapter to remember just what the heck Alex's mission is and I realized that I accidently called his dog, Phoenix, Otto once. Otto was the original name but then I changed it. Sorry for any confusion.

PPS: I actually had this finished a week ago but got too impatient to wait for it to be beta-read so I went ahead and posted it. Sorry for any mistakes!!

**THE DIRTY GAME**

**Chapter 4****: Home Sweet Home**

_Friday_

It seemed almost too easy. We were in England and in a cab going to our new house. Andrew had produced his papers with a flourish to the customs officials, our passports had been stamped, and we were in. Just like that. Getting in was the easy part, getting out would eventually prove to be more difficult.

The cab was a bit crowded with Andrew and I, along with Phoenix, in the back seat. I was beginning to wonder just where this house actually was. I ride seemed to be taking too long. Or maybe that was just me. I stared out at all the familiar sights passing outside the window. It had been four years since I'd been here, the place that had been my home for fourteen years. Phoenix dropped his head into my lap and I absently patted his head as the familiar places passed in a blur before my eyes.

The taxi finally pulled to a stop on a residential street in front of a modest, yet nice, brownstone home. I got out of the cab and Phoenix jumped down beside me. He trotted away before I could grab onto his leash, though. I let him go, his leash trailing behind him, knowing that he wouldn't go too far.

I walked over to where Andrew and Paula were standing with a couple bags at their feet and we looked up at t he house, probably looking just as we were supposed to: a new family admiring their new house. The front yard was very green, and there were a couple trees on the sides of the house. The house itself was made of tan colored brick. It was two floors with a porch in the front and a balcony on the second floor. It was nice. Different then the last place I'd called home here. But nice all the same.

I looked to both sides, wondering which neighboring house was Wolf's. I settled on the house with the black Hummer H3 parked in the driveway. It was just a _hunch_ I had.

"Well, what's say we go in?" Andrew said, rubbing his hands together. I helped him get the bags and we walked up the front walkway and the stairs up to the porch. We stopped in front of the door and waited.

Andrew cleared his throat. He looked at Paula with a sheepish look. "Do you happen to have the key, _honey_?"

Paula crossed her arm over her chest. "I thought you had it."

They were silent. "Well," I said, rocking back on my heels. "This might be a problem." They looked at me I grinned back at them brightly.

"Let's not be too helpful here, _son_," Andrew said.

"Sure thing, _daddy_."

"Boys," Paula said warningly, though there was a smile on her face. "What will the neighbors think? Remember, we're a normal family. Let's try to act like one while in public. Now, Michael," she turned back to Andrew, "are you sure you don't have the key?"

I interjected before Andrew could come up with a reply. "Maybe it's under the doormat." We all looked down. There was no mat. "Or not. Should we try the doorbell?" I suggested with a shrug.

"To our own house?" Paula faced me now. "How will that look to the neighbors, Urie?"

"I dunno," I shrugged. "No odder then us standing out here, I'm sure."

She sighed and tucked her hair back behind her ear. Phoenix bounded up the stairs neck to us and panted loudly as we deliberated. Breaking in was certainly not an option. That would not make a very good first impression. I walked to the side and peered in through the window. I don't know what I was hoping to find amongst the classic living room furniture but I did know that that probably wasn't it. I made my way back over to Paula and Andrew with my hands in my jeans pockets.

"Maybe the door's just unlocked," Paula finally suggested.

"Now why would it be… oh," Andrew looked sheepish as Paula twisted the door handle and the door swung open. "Well that seems startlingly obvious now. I knew there was a reason I married you." And then he kissed her enthusiastically on the cheek.

"Okay, okay," I said as I pushed passed them with Phoenix by my side. "Are we going to go in or just keep standing out here?"

We dropped the few bags we had inside the foyer and looked around. On either side of the entry way there was the dining room and the living. The walls in both rooms were cream colored and the carpet in the living room was dark chocolate brown while the floor in the dining room was dark, polished hardwood. The furniture in each was tasteful and elegant.

"Well," Andrew said as he peered around the corner for a closer look into the living room. "The boys at MI6 sure do know how to decorate and… oh my," he rubbed his hands together gleefully. "Is that a plasma TV?"

Paula sighed and once again her hands found her hips. "Really, Michael, is that all you can think about?"

"Where?" I bounded over to Andrew's side. I glanced quickly around the room before my eyes fell on it in all its shinning glory, hanging on the wall between the towers of the mahogany media center. "And it's _huge_!" I high-fived Andrew triumphantly.

"Boys!" We bother turned around to face Paula. "Is TV really all you two care about? We've only seen two rooms of the house so far! Imagine all the other surprises we may find."

I shared a glance with Andrew. "You're right, Allie," he said. "There might be _more_."

I laughed loudly at the astonishment displayed so openly on Paula's face.

Our surprisingly comfortable family moment was broken by a slamming door. It came from down the hall. My eyes widened. "Erm," I said. "Did we get the haunted house or something?"

Andrew grabbed a long umbrella from the umbrella stand by the hall table but that was the only action that came from the three, highly trained special operatives in the foyer as footsteps sounded in the back of the house.

"No way!" a strangely familiar, and disbelieved, voice echoed down the hall to us. "That's _wicked_. They gave you the cappuccino machine? I am so going to be here for breakfasts."

Paula raised her eyebrows in wonder and Andrew was still poised with his lethal-umbrella-weapon. I advanced a couple of steps forwards as the footsteps got closer.

"We have a cappuccino machine?" Andrew hissed out of the corner of his mouth. Paula sent him a glare and he raised the umbrella up higher in his defensive position.

"Okay," the man said again. "I know I saw you all get out of the cab and come into the house. I just thought I'd be a good _neighbor_ and come and introduce myself. Now, where the heck are you guys?" Phoenix chose that moment to trot back to us and sat down before barking up at us. I nudged his side with my foot and he snapped up at me, pinning back his ears. I held my hands up in surrender and he wandered off down the hall.

Then, down the end of the hall, out of what I could only assume to be the kitchen, a wide shouldered body emerged. "Cub!"

I smacked my head. Figuratively. Of course. "Wolf!" I pushed passed Andrew and he lowered his umbrella.

Wolf spread his arms wide and grinned as I approached him. "Well _there_ you are, Cub," he said.

"How did you get in here?"

Wolf raised an eyebrow. "The corridor that connects our basements? Like I said, I wanted to come and welcome you guys. So… welcome!" Wolf eyed Andrew's umbrella. "An umbrella?"

Andrew tossed it back into the umbrella stand with an echoing _clang_. He cleared his throat. "It's bad luck to open one of those things in the house, you know." He stepped forwards towards Wolf and held out his hand. "I'm Andrew Gettig, but you can call me Michael."

"I'm Brian Donovan," Wolf said and the two men clasped hands.

"He prefers Wolf," I interjected swiftly.

Wolf turned and looked at me. "And Urie here prefers _Cub_."

"Well you—"

Paula placed a hand on my shoulder and pushed me behind her. "Hi," she said sweetly. "I'm Paula Hennies, but I guess I'm Allison Ross now."

Wolf nodded. "Nice to meet you. Nice to meet you all. It's going to be a real pleasure working with Cub again I'm sure. Hopefully this time we won't end up locked in a cell." He slapped my shoulder.

"That's always a good goal to aim for," I grumbled.

"That it is, Urie, that it is. Well," Wolf said, facing Andrew and Paula once more. "It's been great to meet you guys but I'm going to have run now. You know, papers to grade," he rolled his eyes.

"Right," I grinned evilly. "How's the German going, Wolf?"

"It's not," Wolf said. "They decided to switch me to Biology. Maybe the guy we're looking for is the Chemistry teacher. That would just be ironic now, wouldn't it?"

"Speaking of the mission," Andrew said. "We should probably go over that."

"Yeah," Wolf agreed. "How about we get together for dinner? I'd invite you over to my place but yours seems to be better equipped with the gadgetry. Apparently the bachelor pad doesn't need to be quite as chic," he shrugged his shoulders.

"Well," Andrew said, his voice full of authority. "I _am_ a very successful surgeon…"

"I'll just bring a pizza or something with me so you guys don't have to cook your first night here."

"Sounds like a plan," Paula said. "We'll see you for dinner, Wolf. But now we should probably start unpacking our things before my big headed _husband_ decides we need a bigger TV or something."

"Good plan," Wolf said. "I'll see you guys around eight then. And don't worry about unlocking the front door… I prefer the basement." He chuckled lightly at his own joke.

"You're hysterical," I said dryly.

Wolf grinned and saluted me before heading back down the hall and disappearing around a corner. The basement door slammed shut again and he was gone just as suddenly as he had arrived.

"Interesting fellow," Andrew said.

"You don't know the half of it," I said.

"I think I'll quite like him."

I moved down the hallway, going the way that Wolf had just gone. I came into the kitchen and looked around at the chrome appliances, the tan, black and gray marble counter tops and the cherry wood cabinets. "Wow," I said.

"Wow is right," Paula said, coming in behind me.

"So," Andrew said loudly, swinging an around over Paula's shoulders. "Can you cook, hon?"

Paula looked up at him with a twinkling smile. "Not on your life, dearest."

Andrew looked crestfallen for a moment. "So who's going to cook?"

---

---

---

I leaned back on my heels and admired my work with pride. I leaned back against the railing just to get the full affect. There. It was done. Perfect. _Home_.

"Oh, Urie," Paula's voice reached me. I turned around, still grinning from ear to ear, and leaned over the railing, peering down at where she stood on the floor below, holding a stack of books in her arms. "Everyone's going to be able to see that when they come into the living room! Did you have to hang it on your _door_? And why is it so _large_? Couldn't you have gotten a smaller emblem?"

"Go Chelsea!" I yelled down with a whoop.

"Indoor voices, Urie!" Andrew joined Paula by the back of the couch and they both peered up at me. "Nice touch," he added with a nod of approval as he surveyed my door.

"Thanks, _dad_," I said. "_Mom_ doesn't seem to like it too much."

He snorted. "What do women know about football anyway? Ow!" He rubbed the back of his head and looked at Paula ruefully as she settled the book she'd swung at the back of Andrew's head carefully back on top of her stack.

"I will have you two know that I do _so_ know a few things about football." I stared at her as she glanced between Andrew and up to me on the second floor. "I just happen to prefer Fulham over Chelsea." With that, she swished her hair over her shoulder and walked away.

Andrew watched her go before looking back up to me and shrugging. "What did I say? Women don't know _anything_ about football."

"Don't make me come in there, Michael!" Paula yelled from the study.

"This is why I never got married!" Andrew retorted good naturedly.

"It's not the only reason why either," Paula said sweetly as she passed back through the room and patted Andrew on the shoulder. She bent back over the box she was unpacking and Andrew flopped down onto the sofa with a huff.

"I think I'll just watch the _Chelsea_ game now."

"They're not playing today, darling."

"Well then boxing," Andrew said. "Some good 'ol boxing. A _man's_ sport. There's nothing like watching two grown men clobber the _s__h__ite_ out of each other for recreational purposes."

I snuck back into my room before letting out my laughter.

Paula and Andrew were great. They were easy going and naturally liked to joke but they were still both totally concentrated on their work. I sighed as I collapsed onto my bed, lying on my back and staring up at the ceiling. Living with them would really be fun. Even more so if we didn't have to worry about getting killed. I was still unsure about being back in England. To me, sending me back into my old school, where my old friends would surely be, just seemed to be asking for trouble. Part of me was glad to be going back, if not just to see how everyone was doing. But the other part of me, the much larger part, did not want to go. I'd already brought all my friends, the whole of Brookland Prep, too much trouble once. And now I was risking doing just that again. This was where my whole life had been turned upside down and inside out the first time around. I couldn't help but feel that the same thing would happen again before this was all over. But this time I did not want to take anyone down with me. At least the rest of my family was safe in Arizona. In a completely different country. That was one small consolation.

But the house was great, as were Andrew and Paula. And having Wolf around again would be cool. And even though the mission still seemed a bit vague to me, I'd manage to finish it somehow. Maybe helping Brookland Prep this time around would make up for all the trouble I'd caused them the first time.

"Pizza delivery!"Wolf's voice thundered up the stairs.

I rolled off of my bed and jogged downstairs and into the kitchen where everyone else was already sitting. I dropped into a chair and grabbed a piece of pizza for myself. It was silent for a few minutes as everyone ate. I was about to bring up the subject of the mission but a sharp, high pitched whining sound distracted me. I looked to where the sound was coming from and saw Phoenix, staring up at us with big eyes. I pushed back my chair with my legs and he bounded over to me, thrusting his eat nose into my hand. He plopped his haunches onto the floor and his tail thumped against the wood.

"Uh," I said slowly. "I guess it's a stupid question to ask but do we have any dog food?"

Everybody stopped eating. "We might need to get some of that stuff," Andrew said, folding his napkin in half.

I looked back down at Phoenix. He cocked his head to one side and opened his mouth. "We have to feed him _something_," I said.

"Don't worry," Wolf said. "I've got this all covered." He leaned across the table and took a piece of cheese and sausage pizza from the box. "See?" he held it up. I raised my eyebrows. "And then you go like this…" he folded the piece in half. "Eh," he gestured to the piece again before dropping it onto the floor. It landed with a small slap and Phoenix scampered over to it. "And there you go. Problem solved. The dog is fed."

I eyed Wolf. "Is it okay for him to eat pizza?"

Wolf shrugged. "Why not?"

"If my dog dies I am holding you personally accountable," I warned Wolf as I watched Phoenix gobble up the piece of pizza.

"Alright," Wolf laughed. "I don't think he'll die though."

"Well at the very least," I began as Phoenix finished his pizza and began to circle the table, looking for another piece, "you've taught him bad table manners."

"Well, Wolf," Andrew cut in, "have you been able to get very far at the school yet?"

Wolf ran a hand through his dark hair, which had grown out a bit. "Not much yet, I'm afraid. Being a teacher is very time consuming. And this whole grading papers thing is really just a nuisance. I'm thinking about abolishing any form of written work altogether."

"Awesome," I said. "I hope I have your class."

"Oh," Wolf said gleefully. "You do. And I can't wait."

I frowned. "This will be interesting."

"Oh. You have no idea."

"Boys," Paula interrupted us. "Concentrate. It is important that we're up to date before Monday rolls around."

"Of course," Wolf said, back to business. "I've been able to spot some places where I think they've bugged the place. They've only just recently installed security cameras in the hallways so I think it's safe to assume that the KOC is using them in some way. And then, of course, they've also got something in every classroom, I'm certain of it. Cameras _and_ mikes. I haven't been able to locate them yet since I can't just outright go looking for them."

"So whoever's controlling them has to have some sort of power within the school," Paula said.

"That's where I'm not so sure," Wolf said, setting down his pizza crust and wiping his fingers off on his napkin. "Burke is still principal, just like he was when Cub still attended the school. Davis is gone from the vice-principal job, however, and the spot has been filled by a man simply called Smith. I've only been at the school for a week so I've barely seen the man. I'd definitely keep him in mind though."

"I guess Skoda's still out front then?" I asked.

"Yeah," Wolf said. "Every day after school lets out. I've seen him. Can't really mistake him, he's not the most flattering to look at."

"Okay," I said. Then I sighed. "I just don't get it," I admitted, running my hands through my now almost shoulder length hair. I tugged on the ends in thought. "I mean, I understand the mission and everything but it seems too simple. Have you been able to find anything out about the Kill Or Cure group? Anything at all?"

"No," Wolf said in frustration. "That's where everything comes to a dead end. The only thing we know about them is that they want to stop the world's drug problems. Just like that crazy singer a few years back. We know that they are planning to strike the teenage generation first but we don't know when or who these people actually are. Finding the palm pilot shouldn't be that hard, we just have to be careful. Believe me when I say _someone_ is watching every move made in that school right now."

"Do you have any firm suspects yet?" I asked.

"Like I said," Wolf started, "I've only been there a week so I haven't had a chance to really get to know many of the staff yet. I'd keep the new vice-principal Smith in mind. It doesn't necessarily have to be an administrator though," Wolf said, "though that would make the most sense. We never know though, the security cameras in the halls may really be just that, security cameras."

"Brookland Prep never had any problems that would _require_ them though," I pointed out.

"Which is why the school administrators and officials are the first ones we have to keep an eye on." Wolf leaned back in his chair, balancing it on only two of the four legs. "The person we want may not even be _in_ the school. That's something we have to consider. The school may be a dead end. We just have to watch for anything suspicious, anything at all. Even if we just catch a little word here or there. The truth is, even if the person we need to find to get the transmitter isn't in the school, whoever that person is has power over someone in the school. Which would most likely be someone with enough authority to have access to the cameras."

"Can't we follow Skoda?" Andrew asked. "It's certain that he's selling for KOC?"

"Yes," Wolf said. "That would be a good place to start probably." He looked at me, "I'm afraid we might have to make you a bit of a druggie, Cub."

"Gee thanks," I said wryly.

"Give it a week before you start asking around the kids at Brookland Prep if they know a good seller. It's always a possibility that they have an operative working as a student… it's been done before," Paula said, with a glance in my direction.

I nodded.

"Yeah, getting close to Skoda would probably be a good place to start," Andrew continued for Paula. "If the school really is being monitored as close as we think then it will be near impossible to find anything out _inside_. We'll have to start on the outside. Maybe following Skoda will lead us to them and give us enough information to seize the transmitter."

I nodded again, lost in thought. "What if someone recognizes me?" I voiced my biggest fear about the whole situation. "It someone recognizes me then it's all over. If anyone so much as breathes the name _Alex Rider_ then we've lost. It's for certain all the staff and all of the senior year know who I am, or was, and what I've done. It's possible that some of the younger years may know too. I can't know for certain how many people know. This group, the KOC, may have heard around and know my name as well."

There was a thoughtful silence.

I took a deep breath and continued. "Do we know for certain how new the KOC is?"

"No," Wolf shook his head. "We don't. We know virtually _nothing_ about them. That's the most frustrating part."

"Then we can't know if they know who _Alex Rider_ is. If there really are voice transmitters in the classrooms, in the bathrooms even… they might have picked up my name. Maybe just a passing reference, but still. They'll know it. And it will raise alarm if they ever here it again. Especially if it is about the new guy."

"That's true," Wolf mused.

I looked around the table at the three adults watching me carefully. I shook my head. "I don't like this," I said. "I don't like not knowing anything about them. How do we know for certain that they aren't connected to a bigger organization? What if their whole drug plot is just something to lead us away from what is really going on? What if…" I trailed off and gulped, "what if… _Scorpia_ is part of it again?"

"Urie," Paula said gently after a moment. "You know that we're all here to help you whenever you need it, and we'll do whatever you want us to help you. _Our_ concern is protecting you. But this mission is primarily _yours_. All of your fears are valid and if anything happens that puts you at jeopardy too early in the game then we'll pull you out."

I tried to protest but Andrew picked it up where Paula left off. "She's right," he said. "We're not treating you like a child, Urie, and we know you are more than capable of looking after yourself but this is not a suicide mission. Our goal is to first find out just what is going on before anything else. If this turns out to be just a part of a larger, more elaborate scheme then we won't let you take on everything by yourself."

I nodded with a grim smile. I was thankful that I had the support of Paula and Andrew, as well as Wolf's. But I couldn't shake the uneasiness that filled me every time I thought about the KOC and returning to Brookland Prep. There was something that we didn't know. I might have been the only one who thought that though. Or at least the only one that would admit it. It didn't escape my notice that no one responded to my mention of Scorpia.


	5. Line of Fire

**Authors Note**

Wow, sorry, guys.

Quite honestly, this chapter has been done for months but it managed to kill itself about twice. And then I forgot it for awhile and then meant to post at Christmas but since then I've been sick a lot and having trouble with my migraines so I haven't really been doing all that much. But I really do like this story so sorry for leaving all of you guys hanging for so long! I'll try to update sooner.

Thanks to Catherine for being an amazing beta. Any remaining issues are my fault because I've managed to do kill the chapter enough times… sorry!

Steph Malfoy

**Disclaimer: **Yes I am Anthony Horowitz… not quite.

**THE DIRTY GAME**

**Chapter5: Line of Fire**

_Monday_

The weekend was spent filled with the necessary precautions. We had to look like a new family that had no clue where they were. Paula took on her role as wife and fixed up the yard a little. She spent a lot of time hanging wind chimes on the porch. I'd be lying if I said they didn't annoy me. Andrew took me shopping for school clothes, rather embarrassing really. I was eighteen after all. But it was all a part of the charade. He only got 'lost' three times on the way to the mall, asked a strolling family for directions once, and pulled out the map three times, once at a stoplight, causing the cars behind us to blare their horns angrily when the light turned back to green.

With our few personal items carefully on display in the house, it now felt more like home. But it wouldn't ever really be home. Because home is where your family is. As much as I may like Andrew and Paula, they weren't family. And that picture of all us on the living room mantle wasn't real.

I did a good job of hiding it after our Friday night meeting, but I was still worried about starting back at Brookland Prep. It was practically asking someone to shout out "_Alex Rider_" at the top of their lungs. On Monday morning I woke up late and quickly threw on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and laced up my trainers before running downstairs. I grabbed a protein bar, my bag and shouted goodbye to Andrew and Paula as I slammed the front door closed.

There might not have been much about me that was normal, but no one could say that I wasn't starting the day like a normal teenager.

It was a small blessing that MI6 had decided to provide me with my own car—Americans and their car obsession… As it was, I was already thirty minutes late to school. Not too bad considering it was supposed to be my first day. It was just a good thing I didn't still have to travel via bike. Somehow I didn't think the flashy bicycle I'd treasured at fourteen would quite cut it now.

On the way to school, I got stuck in the morning traffic. Andrew and Paula couldn't think to wake me up? The drive was quiet otherwise, music playing softly from the stereos in the background. It gave me time to rethink this whole _mission_. I knew, hoped, that Blunt knew what he was doing.

When I got to school the parking lot was full so I had to drive all the way to the back to find a spot. I hiked my bag up over my shoulder and took my time walking up to the old, red brick building. I didn't look too hard at the football pitch. It didn't give me much confidence for the day ahead.

I walked slowly up the front steps, taking my time to look around. I pushed open the doors and was hit with a blast of air-conditioning. Once inside I shoved my hands into my pockets and looked around, trying to look like the confused new student who had no idea where the office was. In the corners opposite the front doors were two video cameras. Both were trained in my direction. I took note of them for future reference.

I quickly scanned over the cameras. A piece of light blue paper was taped to the wall and on closer inspection I saw that it said: Front Office, with an arrow pointing the way. I shrugged but followed the sign. Down the hallway I entered through a door that said 'Office'.

The office was exactly as I remembered it. I kept my face impassive as I reminded myself about the cameras that were sure to be in every corner. It was unnerving to think that somewhere someone was watching my every move and calculating me. The three secretaries behind the long front desk were busy tapping away on computers or talking on the phone and none noticed me.

"Excuse me, can I help you?"

I slowly took in the face that belonged to the woman who had spoken to me. It appeared that my first test would be coming right away.

"Er," I said and cleared my throat, putting on my practiced American accent. "I'm new here…" I settled with. "I got lost and there was a lot of traffic so…" I waved my hand lamely.

"Of course. It's not a problem, dear," Miss Bedfordshire, the secretary I'd known four years ago, said. She stood up from her chair and shuffled some papers in front of her. I stepped closer to the desk. "Your name?" she said calmly.

"Urie Ross," I responded easily, looking around the office like a curious new student.

"Ah," she said. "Here we go…" she pulled a piece of paper out from a folder. She froze when she looked back up at me. Her mouth opened and then closed. I kept my feet where they were and my face impassive. She snapped out of it soon enough. "I'm sorry," she said with a smile. "I don't know what came over me."

"It's okay," I said.

"Here is your schedule," she said, handing me the paper. "You should be heading off to… let me see…" she peered at the paper. "Ah, yes. Biology with Mr. Donovan. I'll show you the way there."

I breathed a sigh of relief as she led me out of the office. It had been close but I'd passed the first test. I followed Miss Bedfordshire down the halls, carefully taking in my surroundings. Our footsteps echoed through the silent halls. As we turned the corner to where I knew the science wing was, Miss Bedfordshire looked at me.

"Principal Burke was looking forward to meeting you but he's in a meeting. He'd like to meet with you tomorrow morning to see how you're settling in."

"Alright."

"It must be quite odd to be so far away from home," she remarked casually as we continued down the hallway.

"Yeah," I agreed simply. "It's different."

"Well here we are," she said, gesturing to a door in front of us. Through the window I could see Wolf standing at the front of the class gesturing to a diagram drawn on the blackboard. I laughed on the inside at seeing Wolf teaching.

"Thank you," I said.

"Have a good first day, Urie," Miss Bedfordshire said with a small and patted my shoulder. I tried for the skeptical look that I'm sure any other eighteen-year-old would have given. She didn't seem to notice. "Stop by the office if you ever need anything."

"Thank you," I said again, reaching for the door handle. She smiled once more and then I heard her heels clacking off down the hall. I looked back at the class, noting that a couple of the students on the far side were paying more attention to me standing outside the class then they were to Wolf's teaching.

I took a deep breath and open the door. It creaked loudly in protest as I tried to shut it slowly behind me. I winced at the sharp noise. I turned around and faced a room full of my one time peers staring at me. I offered a tentative smile.

"And you would be…?"

I looked to Wolf who, though looking uncomfortable in his khakis and button down, managed to give me a look with a raised eyebrow.

"Er…" I said hesitatingly. "I'm new here. I think I have this class." I blinked and kept my face blank, remembering that I was soon going to be called up to my new role as a stoner. I figured I better start preparing.

Wolf's eyebrow lowered. He looked down at something on the big, black lab table in the front of the class. "Urie Ross?"

"Yessir," I said.

Wolf looked back up at me. "Then you're in the right place. Take a seat."

I faced the class and scanned them all. Everyone was still staring at me even though Wolf had resumed his teaching. I trudged through the rows of students and took a seat on the right side of the classroom, two rows from the back. I dropped heavily down into my seat and didn't even bother with pulling out a notebook and pen. The class was almost over anyway.

I carefully looked around the classroom, challenging myself to seeing how many people I could recognize. At first glance, it wasn't so easy and that gave me hope. Four years could change a person a lot, especially when those four years took you from fourteen to eighteen. I looked to my left and froze for such a minuscule moment that no one would have even caught it. A tall boy with an athletic build stared at me_._ I would have recognized him anywhere even if Wolf hadn't called out his name at that moment.

"Tom?"

The boy looked back to the front of the class and I looked back out the window.

"Yes, Mr. Donovan?"

"I asked you a question, Tom," Wolf said dryly, leaning his elbows against the lab table.

"Er," Tom coughed. "… Four?"

I rubbed a hand over my face to hide the grin that threatened to break out.

Wolf straightened up and sighed loudly. "Mr. Harris," he said, "I don't know where your head is this morning but this is not maths class."

"Sorry, sir," Tom said, rubbing the back of his neck guiltily. There were several giggles and snickers from the class. A black haired boy slapped Tom's shoulder from behind. I glimpsed him out of the corner of my eye. If it was Ty or Kyle, I could not be so certain in one quick glimpse. The fair haired girl in front of me slipped a folded piece of paper to the girl next to her. The dark red haired girl took the paper in hand before turning around in her seat and giving Tom a skeptical look. Tom shook his head and she turned around to read the paper.

I looked firmly back out the window, waiting desperately for class to end. _Bloody hell_. It really was an absolutely phenomenal start. I'd only managed to put myself right in the middle of a group of my old friends. Out of all the empty seats—

"Mr. Ross."

My eyes jerked back to the front of the room. Now Wolf was watching me with an expectant look on his face.

"Er… yessir?" I folded my hands on top of my desk.

"I asked you how far you've gotten in your studies of biology at your old school."

Well," I said. I scrambled for an answer and looked at the obscure diagram on the board. "I was already taking this class and I suppose we were…" I gestured to the board with a hand, "about where you guys are."

"Very well," Wolf said, sounding rather deflated. "Make sure you're caught up."

I felt the need to salute Wolf. And I would have. But given the current situation I figured that might be pushing it a bit. I may have been supposed to have been working on my rep as a stoner but I didn't really need a detention yet. Ten minutes into the new school and already a detention. It would be quite the record to beat…

Everyone around me was jumping to their feet and shoving their books in their bags before hightailing it out of the classroom. I stood up slowly and picked up my bag before exciting at the back of the crowd. I caught Wolf's eye briefly as I left but he just went back to whatever papers he was sorting through.

The hallway was crowded with student talking with their friends as they moved to their next class. I frowned when I realized I had no idea what my next class was. I moved the side and dug through my bag, pulling out my already crumpled schedule. I smoothed it out on the wall and looked at it. It looked like I had… history with Mr. Cohen. And in the same room as four years ago. Lovely.

I took my time walking there, making it look like a mix of I-have-no-clue-where-I'm-going and why-the-hell-am-I-here? I made it to the classroom, checked my schedule and the number on the door once more and shuffled in. Apparently my little charade had taken too long, as the teacher, Mr. Cohen, stopped speaking as soon as the door banged shut behind me. Every eye was once more focused on me. I scowled.

"I'm new here. I got lost. Sorry," I said in a bored voice. I had the feeling it would be my day's mantra.

Mr. Cohen looked briefly taken aback at my abruptness but collected himself quickly. "Ah, you are Urie Ross then?" He looked at me and rubbed his hands down the sides of his slacks.

"Yessir," I said. "That's me."

"Well then welcome to history class, I'm Mr. Cohen." I looked him over quickly. He was average height, not terribly fit, had a kind face and graying hair. He didn't look terribly threatening. I nodded and shifted my weight from foot to foot. Mr. Cohen waved a hand towards the class. "Take seat, Urie, anywhere will do."

I quickly glanced over the class, looking for an empty seat. There was only one. My heart sank as I recognized it as the place I had sat the last time I'd been in the room. To make matters entirely worse, the empty desk was surrounded by my old friends. They were all there: Tom, Ben, Ty, Ky, Riley, Blake and Dylan. All of them. And now they, along with everyone else, were staring at me.

I slowly moved through the aisle that was crowded with schoolbags and sat down in the empty desk. I placed my bag on the desktop.

"You can't sit there," a furious voice hissed from my left. I glanced over and saw Blake staring at me through narrowed eyes. I stared at her for a moment too long, but in my defense it was justified. Blake really was all grownup. Oh the things four years could do…

"Excuse me?"

"I said, you can't sit there," she repeated. I could feel the rest of them watching me too but I kept my eyes on Blake.

"And why not?"

She froze and leaned back in her chair. I watched her take a deep breath. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared straight ahead to the front of the class.

"Because that's where our old friend used to sit," another voice hissed from my right. Riley.

"Well," I said. "He's not here right now."

"He hasn't been here for four years," Blake's angry voice flashed on my left. I looked back over at her.

I forced a smirk on my face. "Shame," I said with faux morose. "The poor guy is really missing out. I can't imagine why he left."

"You don't know anything," Blake said harshly, her voice rising slightly from its previous hiss.

I had a retort sharp on my tongue when Mr. Cohen looked back at us and said, "Is there a problem back there?"

Black mumbled a no and Riley shook her head. I said nothing, only stared straight forwards.

"That's what I thought," Mr. Cohen said. "Mr. Ross," I moved my head slowly to look at him when he said my name. "Where is it that you've come from?" He put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels.

"Arizona," I said slowly. "In the United States." Behind me, the twins snorted and I whipped around in my chair to give them a death glare. And I had a pretty good one. Their faces pulled straight. I turned my back to them and heard them snicker again.

"Your school?" Mr. Cohen asked me next.

"Scottsdale Academy."

Behind me, the twins whistled. Mr. Cohen paid them no mind, keeping all his attention and his icy blue eyes focused on me. "Well I don't know how it worked in Scottsdale Academy of Arizona in the United States but here at Brookland Prep we do not tolerate any disruptions during class time. Am I understood?" I stared at him. "I said, do I make myself clear, Mr. Ross?"

"Yes, _sir_," I said, emphasizing the word this time.

"Very good, Mr. Ross. It would not be very welcoming of me to hand you a detention on your first day here so please do not tempt me."

His slight beer belly and flabby muscles did absolutely nothing for me now. Mr. Cohen was officially on my Watch List. History teachers were never good. This classroom must have had a curse on it or something.

--

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"Does Mr. Fancy Shmancy American _Academy_ Boy think he's too good for those of us slumming it down here in the _Preparatory_?"

"I would say that he does, Ty."

I had taken my time leaving history when the bell rang, even though I was eager to rid myself of Mr. Cohen's presence. I'd been hoping to avoid a confrontation with my old friends. But they were there waiting for me as soon as I left the classroom. It was Ty and Ky that faced me first. I didn't want to fight with them. But they had no idea who I was. I faced them with a straight face and squared my shoulders. Now I was Urie Ross.

"Excuse me?" I settled on saying. I had to look up to see them. The twins were big, taller than me by a few fair inches. But they were slim and lanky. Together they may have stood half a chance of taking me.

"I think you heard us, American Boy," Ty said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh my," I said with false worry. "Have I done something to offend someone already? I've scarcely been here an hour. A new personal best, if I do say so myself," I smirked up at them, going for a cocky attitude.

"You can't come into _our_ school and insult _us_," Blake stepped between Ty and Ky.

"I'm sorry," I said, throwing my hands up in the air. "I'm not really quite positive just what it is that I've done to offend you already but—"

"You insulted our friend," Blake snapped at me.

I took a step back. "I don't even know him," I said. Oh, if only they knew.

"Why did you come here, American Boy?" Ky cut in before Blake could fire back her retort.

I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest. "My father got a job offer. He's a surgeon at St. Dominics."

Ty and Ky exchanged a look and a nod. "Well that explains it then," Ky said.

"Yeah," Ty seconded his brother. "You're nothing by a rich little American snob."

"Do you think I actually wanted to come here? That I actually want to be _here_?" I wrinkled my nose and filled my voice with scorn as I look purposefully around the halls.

Mr. Cohen stepped through the door just then. "Is there a problem out here, gentlemen?" he crossed his arms and looked from me, to Ty, to Blake, to Ky and back to me.

"No, Mr. Cohen," Blake said.

"I should hope not. Now move along to class… all of you," he said. I turned to walk away but Mr. Cohen's voice stopped me. "You had better watch yourself, Mr. Ross. You are not getting off to a good start."

I strode quickly away down the near empty hall, the group of them laughing behind my back. Mr. Cohen didn't even know the half of it. Coming back to Brookland Prep was turning out to be worse then I'd thought. And not for the same reasons I'd thought either.

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--

By the end of the day I wasn't sure if I was glad that no one had paid much attention to me or not. Friends were a good thing to have but how many real friends could I have when my life was, well mine? I knew that it was probably for the better that I wasn't involved with my old friends again. It was better for the people watching me, it was better for my old friends, it was better for the mission… and it was better for me. I'd learned long ago that it was better to never form any close personal relationships when I was 'working'. I'd be here for a couple of weeks, do my job and then I'd be gone again.

When I'd first started at Scottsdale Academy, I hadn't been worried about friends. I'd never been to the school before I didn't know anyway. Sure, friends would be nice but I just didn't care. But at Brookland it was different. I'd known the people there, I knew the school. But no one knew it was _me_, Alex Rider. That was the real reason why the way people had avoided me bothered me.

Maybe I just had the weird-guy vibe. It had been that way the last time I'd been at Brookland Prep as well. If I looked ahead to the mission, then being the 'loner' was probably best. I'd already pinpointed the kids that were most likely to indulge in Skoda's services. In about a week I'd make my move and approach them. Until then, everything was going according to plan.

I wasn't Alex Rider. I wasn't even the Urie Ross I'd been in Arizona. There I had been popular, I had friends, I had soccer and I had family. Here I had none of that. Here I was just Urie Ross, the loner stoner. It didn't matter what I wanted anymore. All that mattered was the mission and who my character was this time around.

And if I thought about it, then it really was better this way. No one that didn't need to be should never be involved in my work. It's a risk to me, and to them. But by finishing the mission quietly and independently I was saving them. And in terms of stopping the Kill or Cure organization, I was saving them in more ways than one.

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Mr. Cohen may have threatened me with detention, but Ms. Stevenson actually gave it to me.

_English Literature had never been my strong point. I found it utterly pointless and a dreadful bore. What a way to waste forty minutes of my life. I got to class early and took a seat in the back. The rest of the class began to file in and I received my fair share of curious looks. One girl tried to come and talk to me. A cold, blank stare was all it took to send her stumbling on her way. _

_Ty, Ky, Blake and Tom came in as a group and Ty and Ky exchanged a wink and a smirk when they saw me sitting in the back. Ty and Ky took a seat on either side of me—I wondered why I hadn't taken a corner seat—and Tom and Blake sat in front of me. Once again, they had cornered me. _

_Ty and Ky threw jibes at me but I ignored them. I pulled out my mobile and pretended to text. If they wanted to call me an arrogant brat then I'd give them reason to. I laughed to myself as I typed out a reply to a text from Jeff. Out of the corner of my eyes I could see Ty and Ky leaning over to try and see my message. _

_I placed my phone on the top of my desk and looked at them. "Do you mind?" I raised my eyebrows._

_Ty and Ky looked at each other briefly before looking back at me. "Piss off," Ty said. _

_I clenched my jaw. "Come again? You're the one trying to read _my_ private messages."_

"_What makes you think you have business interesting enough for us to want to know it?" Ky jumped in. _

"_Your actions speak louder than your words," I replied calmly. _

_By now Blake and Tom were watching our exchange, as was a good number of the rest of the class. The teacher, a tall, young woman with light blond hair walked into the class. Her high heels click-clacked their path to the board and the squeak of the marker on the dry-erase board started. She didn't say anything but the rest of the class turned back around in their desks. _

_I leaned back in my desk but kept right on texting. As my thumbs pressed the keys, I glanced around the room. So the cameras were probably in the corners. I smirked down at the screen of my mobile. I didn't know who was watching, but whoever it was, was about to get a show. _

_I leaned forwards in my desk and the metal legs squeaked against the tile floor. I tapped Tom on the shoulder and hissed, "Yo, _mate_."_

_Tom slowly turned around to face me. I looked into the familiar face of my onetime best friend and I felt disgusted with myself for what I was about to do. But it had to be done. And the sooner the better. _

"_I'm not your mate, _dude_," Tom hissed back at me. _

_That surprised me, but I was ready for it. Tom hadn't personally made any attacks on me as of yet. But it was to be expected. _

_I smirked. "Oh, come off it." Tom's eyes squinted but he didn't turn away so I kept going. I wondered how sensitive the cameras were. "But I do have something to ask you…"_

_Tom glanced at Ty and Ky and I could see them shrug out of the corner of my eyes. Tom looked back at me warily. "What?"_

"_Where can you buy the best stuff around here?"_

_Tom's eyebrows crinkled together in the middle in his confusion. "The best _what_?"_

_I glanced surreptitiously out of the corners of my eyes. "You know…" I said trailing off suggestively, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, though I had absolutely no clue what I was talking about. _

"_No," Tom said. "I honestly don't."_

_I placed my mobile on the top of my desk and grinned. "The best dealer." I rolled my eyes. Tom still looked confused. "Come on, man, how dense _are _you?" I leaned forwards on my elbows and lowered my voice so he had to lean closer too. "I've only been here a week and I don't know the best dealer around yet. I was hoping to find someone here who knew."_

"_What… oh." Comprehension dawned on Tom's face as he finally grasped what I was talking about. "You mean like drugs?"_

_I rolled my eyes again and sat back in my chair. "Yeah." On my sides, Ty and Ky snickered._

_Tom sat up straight, looking defensive. "Well then you've asked the wrong person."_

_I made my face astonished. "_What_?" _

_Apparently I had raised my voice too loud in my quest to come off as believably astonished. "Excuse me," Ms. Stevenson's voice rang out. "Is there a problem back there, Tom?"_

_Tom stared at me for one more second before turning back around to face forwards. "Er, well, I…"_

_Ms. Stevenson walked forwards a few steps, her hips swished with her black skirt. "You weren't talking about last night's homework, were you, Tom?"_

"_Er, well, I—" Tom stuttered again. _

_I snickered behind my hand. The soft noise only brought the teachers attention to myself. _

"_And who is that sitting behind you, Tom?" she peered around Tom's shoulder. Now everyone was watching us. _

"_Hi," I said brightly in my American accented voice. "I'm new here. My name's Urie Ross."_

_Ms. Stevenson's hands found her hips and she cocked her head at me. "Well, Urie, were you talking about the homework with Tom?"_

"_Well actually I was just asking Tom if he knew—"_

"_The answer to that is no, Mr. Ross," she said, stepping forwards and picking up my mobile. "You weren't here last week to know what the homework was. So you have absolutely no reason to be talking during my class. And using your mobile?" She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "Shame on you, Mr. Ross. Detention, today, after school." She turned on her high heeled feet to walk away, calling over her should, "and that includes you too, Mr. Harris."_

I'd reported dutifully for detention and spent the next hour and a half twiddling my thumbs in front of Ms. Stevenson's desk. Tom sulked in the desk next to me. After forty minutes Ms. Stevenson excused herself to go to the ladies room.

"Bloody _hell_," Tom exploded as soon as she's closed the door behind her. "Did you never learn the simple rules of school?" He rounded on me.

I tried my best to look taken aback. I shrugged. "You act like you've never had a detention before." I laughed at the look on Tom's face. "Jesus, you haven't, _have_ you? That's sad, man."

"I'm captain of the bloody varsity football team," Tom huffed. "Usually the coaches frown on detentions. But I wouldn't expect a stoner like _you_ to know that, would I?"

"Clever," I drawled. "How was I supposed to know you were such a prude?"

"You'd be surprised how many people here _don't_ do drugs."

"Would I now?"

"Yes," Tom said defensively. "None of my friends—"

"Yes, yes I know," I said, waving a hand to dismiss his statement. "And they're all just lovely people, aren't they?" Tom tried to spit something back at me but I stopped him. "But just because you don't actively participate in the other side of life," I began, "doesn't mean that you don't know where I could restock my stash, if you know what I mean."

"I don't," Tom said coldly, turning back around in his chair to face the front of the class.

I snorted. "Come on, man. This is _high school_. You can't honestly be that oblivious to everything."

Tom was silent for a moment, considering his options. "And why should I tell you anything?"

"Why not?"

"Because you've insulted all of my friends."

"Oh come off it. You're just being ridiculous now. I'm sorry that I 'insulted' your precious _Alex Rider_. Happy now? Now tell me where I can get my fix."

Tom glared at me and I felt a fresh wave of guilt at causing him his frustration. "In front of the—"

"I know you boys aren't talking now, are you?" Ms. Stevenson looked at us, her perfectly arched eyebrows rising. "Because that would mean I was entitled to give you another detention." Next to me, Tom groaned. Ms. Stevenson looked at him and smiled. "That's what I thought. Now quiet down." She back at her desk and pulled out her own mobile.

I watched her as she pulled it into view. As soon as the silver mobile came into my view, the picture that Blunt and Jones had showed me flashed clearly through my mind. It was chunky, yet sleek and the silver was shinning.

"That's a nice phone you've got there." It slipped out before I could stop it.

Ms. Stevenson looked up at me and smiled, her teeth were white and straight. "I know, isn't it?" she looked down at it fondly. "I like to have all the newest gadgets in my personal armory."

"Oh I bet," I mumbled under my breath, not taking my eyes off the silver palm pilot.

"Did you say something, Mr. Ross?" Her voice was

I looked up at her and smiled my most charming smile. "No ma'am."

"Good," she said, looking back down at the tiny computer held in her hands. "That's what I thought. Now shush, the both of you."

I hadn't known that locating the phone would be quite so easy. Now I just had to find a way to get a glimpse at the back of it without being seen by the cameras. It was frustrating; I'd found a possible suspect for the palm pilot I was looking for and I was absolutely helpless until I figured out a way to find and stall the cameras.

I spent the remainder of the detention twiddling my thumbs. But this time I had something productive to occupy my thoughts with.

**A/n: **again, really sorry for the wait but I'll try to get the next one up sooner! Review!! -Steph


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